


Sweet Tooth

by phantasizeit



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Frottage, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, dan embarasses himself a lot, phil is a hot older man who just wants to take care of dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 08:37:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14304933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantasizeit/pseuds/phantasizeit
Summary: Searching for a new beginning in London, Dan stress-bakes to cope with his blundering through the adult world. Luckily, his hot, older neighbor, Phil, has a sweet tooth.





	Sweet Tooth

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Phandom Fic Fests' New Beginnings Fic Fest. I think there’s a lack of silly fics that don’t take themselves too seriously in the phandom. So I wrote one. Thank you [Phanarchy](https://phanarchy.tumblr.com/) for being a wonderful beta! Ash, I can’t tell you how fun and helpful it was to write this thing with real-time reactions.
> 
> Age difference warning! Dan is 22 and Phil is 29 in this work.

 It’s three weeks after first he moves to London, and directly after his second interview, that Dan does his first stress baking. Dan bursts through the door and lets his keys, wallet, and CV drop to the counter. He pulls up the first recipe he comes across when he googles “easy dessert recipes:” crispy cakes. He can make that. Crispy cakes are so easy that children make them, and Dan has an abundance of cereal lying around. He even has a bag of marshmallows that he uses to top his hot chocolate.

Dan melts marshmallow and butter into a pot, while trying not to think about how horribly his job hunt is going. Or, specifically, how badly that interview went. But he can’t stop thinking about how he got lost on the way to the building because he forgot what the business was even called. By the time he arrived, he was fifteen minutes late for his interview and drenched in sweat. Dan tries not to think about how he stuttered through his explanation of why he attended three years of university, but has no degree. And then, to top it all off, he kept nervously kicking a chair leg underneath the interviewer’s desk, only to discover that he was actually kicking his interviewer. Dan groans out loud, pushing his fingers against his eyes like he can push away his shame. The guy had been so eager to get Dan out of his office.

Dan moved because he wanted a fresh start— a new beginning. And what better time for a new beginning than early spring? When the snow is melting away to reveal… well, a lot of trash, because it’s London.

This new beginning is proving to be even more difficult to start than Dan imagined, and he prides himself in being realistic. Borderline cynical. Maybe his interviews aren’t going well because all of the jobs he is applying for are in tall offices with cookie cutter cubicles that look more like coffins than stable working environments. Or maybe it has something to do with the fact that he has no degree, spent entirely too long dithering in uni, and still has no idea what he wants to do with his future.  Dan stirs the coagulated mess on his hob and tries to ignore his overly savage brain reminding him about his own shortcomings. His brain is a dick.

Despite his thoughts, Dan feels tension running out of his muscles as he presses crispy cake into a baking sheet. This will be his new hobby; he’ll bake when things get too overwhelming. Somehow it’s better than losing himself on the internet, looking up things on wikipedia until he’s reading about something weird like the mating habits of wolves. Or whatever. His FBI agent probably thinks he’s a massive furry.

Crispy cakes are easy, but Dan forgets how the minute you take them off the heat, they begin to solidify and he might have left the melted marshmallow and cereal bits to sit in the pot while getting distracted on tumblr. He stares at his pots and spoons, scratching a finger against crystallized white gunk, wondering if they are a lost cause and if he should just bin them. How is one supposed to get fossilized sugar off of surfaces?

Dan fills his sink with warm soapy water and chucks his tools in. Maybe that will do it.

Dan looks back at his tray of crispy cakes. He feels better, but he has made entirely too many. What possessed him to use an entire family-sized box of cereal? There has to be forty cakes on his counter. Dan stuffs an entire cake in his mouth to begin the process of getting through his dessert hoard. If he was a dragon he _would_ have a dessert hoard.

Now that he’s done distracting himself, the stress begins to creep back in. Dan knows himself; this is just a new way of procrastinating and pretending to be productive. While Dan munches on his dessert, he thinks about just how many job applications that are bookmarked on his macbook and that email that sits unopened in his inbox asking him when he’s free for an interview. It’s been sitting there for a day, too, and it’s like Dan can feel a timer ticking in his head, letting him know that he’s being rude and no one wants to hire someone who can’t even answer a bloody email.

Maybe he should just save the prospective employer the trouble and reply with a “lol nah m8.”

Dan swallows harshly and immediately grabs and stuffs another crispy cake in his mouth. He hasn’t even taken off his tie— and now there is a nice little blob of marshmallowy goodness on the silky material. Dan touches it. Hard, of course. How the fuck does one clean ties?

Just as Dan is contemplating texting his mother for laundry advice, his doorbell rings. Dan’s cheeks are still puffed out with crispy cake, but he thinks _fuck it_. He strides over to the door and answers. He chews faster, hoping to swallow before he—

—comes face to face with a gorgeous man that he immediately recognizes as his next door neighbor. “Hi Dan!” The man smiles, pushing a hand through straight, black hair swept up in a quiff. Dan knows that this guy introduced himself when Dan was moving, but it had been such a stressful day that Dan hadn’t really been able to get a good look at him.

When face to face with his neighbor, Dan realizes that he is extremely hot in a “mature man who could take good care of you in more ways that one” kind of way. He has really pale, clear skin and black-rimmed glasses that frame his face perfectly. Dan can see tiny wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes. He’s wearing a button-up shirt with little corgis on it and Dan almost wishes he didn’t look so approachable. Although now that he’s thinking about it, he probably couldn’t handle the sight of his neighbor in a suit. Dan practically drools at the thought.

Unfortunately, Dan can’t remember his neighbor’s name for the life of him. It might have started with an L? Lewis? Leo? Or an F? Frank? Dan wracks his brain, but the information isn’t forthcoming. 

“Hi?” He tries to say, but it sounds more like a pathetic mumble through globs of marshmallow. “Oh, shorry, I’m jusht.” Dan chews pointedly and finally swallows the sticky messy in his mouth. “Uh, crispy cake. I made some crispy cakes. Yanno, the little desserts with marshmallow and pop rice?” The man nods; of course he knows what crispy cakes are. Dan still can’t shut up, distracted by blue eyes. “So, hi. What’s up. How can I help you?”

His neighbor chuckles warmly, making Dan think he knows just how frazzled Dan is. “Just coming round to drop off a piece of your mail that accidentally got put in my box. It smells great in here though, do you bake often?”

“Oh, ah, not usually. Sometimes. I dunno.” Dan rolls his eyes at his own ridiculousness. He weighs the pros and cons of asking for his neighbor’s name and considers ways he might be able to sneakily do it. In the end, Dan figures that the sooner he admits his failings as a human to new people, the better. “I don’t want to sound like a massive fail, but I can’t remember your name.”

“Phil.” Phil smiles an easy, warm smile like it’s no problem and Dan kind of want to drop to his knees for Phil. Or do something weird like lick his wrinkles. He wonders how old Phil is. He’s kind of a fan of older men; the way they look and act so confident. Like they have their shit together. Phil probably has his shit together.

“Phil.” Dan extends his hand for a hand shake and Phil, misunderstanding, places a piece of mail in his outstretched palm. Dan doesn’t correct his neighbor, but kinda feels like an idiot and begins to laugh nervously. When he cuts himself off, realizing he sounds a little off his rocker, his mind is unhelpfully blank.

Phil clears his throat. “Well, I’ll see you around, neighbor. Cheers!” Phil turns to leave and Dan reaches out and catches the hem of Phil’s button-up shirt. Which is weird. Dan is weird. Dan immediately let’s go and hopes that Phil won’t think of him as the weird baby-faced neighbor hanging off his shirttails.

“Wait, hey. Do you want some of my crispy cakes? I made enough for a small town and I only eat as much as a small village.”

“Oh!” Phil turns around, steps through the door, and giggles at Dan’s joke. Dan breaks out in a sweat, because how could someone who looks so drop-dead gorgeous also be the most adorable thing on the planet? Like, Dan’s already putting Phil in is his own cute category above “snuggly animals.” “Oh god, I’ll never say no to sweets. I have the worst sweet tooth, which is why I never bake. Well, that, and I live alone so there’s no one to bake for.”

Dan files away these tidbits of information in the growing “Phil folder” in his head, right next to the exact blue shade of his eyes (cerulean with aqua and gold splashes). Dan wonders if there’s a sneaky way to ask Phil if he’s single, but figures it would be a weird thing to ask the first time they properly speak. Instead, he stays on safe topics.

“Yeah, that’s my problem, too. There aren’t many recipes out there for one.” Dan stacks crispy cakes on a plate and wraps it with plastic. Dan feels like an evil genius; Phil will be back to return the plate. He’s too polite to keep it. Dan wants to cackle maniacally while rubbing his hands together. He figures that will probably scare Phil away, though.

“Hit me up when you need me to help you eat your baked goods.” Phil replies, taking the plate from Dan.

“You’ll be seeing more of me, then.” Dan smiles and waves goodbye to Phil.

“Oh good.” Phil winks and Dan has to keep his knees from buckling. Instead, he closes the door behind Phil and replays the moment again and again. Dan thinks that _baking_ and _Phil_ will be great distractions from the horror that is the adult world.

The interaction motivates him; it’s a little splash of positive that powers Dan up. Dan ends up replying to that email and scheduling his interview for bright and early the next day, and using a tide stick to get the marshmallow out of his red tie. In the end, there’s only a little spot of discoloration and you have to be within four feet of Dan to even notice the suspicious white stain. At least he hopes. He gets a response from his possible employer confirming his interview and only notices and obsesses over one typo in his previous email. He’s not a failure at being an adult; he’s handling it.

Dan finishes his duties and immediately calls his best friend and roommate from college, hoping for a morale boost. The phone rings exactly twice before Tyler is picking up with a delighted, “Bitch! What’s up?”

“Can you just tell me that I’m not stupid for quitting school and moving to one of the most expensive cities in England when I don’t have a job lined up?” Dan’s talking so fast he wonders if Tyler can even understand him. Then he remembers that Tyler saw him trying to work through a _law degree_. Dan doesn’t think he ever made sense during those hell semesters.

Tyler shushes Dan like he’s an infant, which should piss him off but it actually soothes him a bit. Tyler has always been kind of weirdly mom-like. In a twinkish, let’s-get-drunk-and-fuck-dudes kind of way. Ok, so maybe not so mom-like. “Daniel, breathe. Honey, it’s all going to be ok. We’ve talked about this. You spent all of last semester and half of this semester talking about this. College ain’t for you, sweetie.”

Dan thinks back to long nights pouring his heart out to Tyler over weird cocktails because Tyler fancies himself a mixologist. Again and again he came to the same conclusion: university wasn’t the place for him. He spent three years in uni. Tried out law, social work, philosophy, and astronomy. Felt adrift and out of place the whole time. Spent more time procrastinating than doing actual work. University wasn’t the place for him.

“Daaan,” Tyler sing-songs, “Earth to Dan!”

“Yeah…” Dan whispers, “You’re right. It’s just. I’m here now and it’s scary.”

“Baby Daniel, you’re making me cry. I just wanna scoop you up in a hug and protect you.” Dan can practically hear Tyler’s pout.

Dan should stop wallowing. “Hey, on the bright side, I met my neighbor properly and he’s incredibly attractive.”

Tyler is immediately distracted from Dan’s issues and begs for details. Dan tells him of his plan to lure Phil into his life with baked goods. “Like Pavlov’s dog. I’ll associate myself with desserts so that everytime Phil sees me he salivates.”

“Kinky!” Tyler says, laughing. Dan can hear the sound of dishes clinking in the background and it sounds like Tyler is cooking. Dan suddenly feels a wave of homesickness for his roommate and his old flat. And for familiarity and stability.

“Fuck, Tyler. What have I gotten myself into?”

“Oh hon, I’m guessing you’re not talking about your meal of a neighbor.”

“No,” Dan says sadly. He feels his throat getting tight. He stayed in college for so long because it was safe. People told him what to do; he didn’t have to figure it out for himself. Things were laid out for him.

“It’s gonna be ok, Dan. Stick with this plan. I feel good about it.”

Dan can only hope his friend is correct.

 

***

 

The next day, Dan’s alarm goes off at the right time and he breathes a sigh of relief. It wouldn’t have really mattered if it hadn’t gone off, though, because Dan has slept lightly the entire night. Dan remembers a few disturbing anxiety dreams involving bosses morphing into crispy cake monsters and his clothing becoming translucent during his interview. He pushes himself out of bed, feeling achy and disgusting. He skips the shower for now, in favor of getting caffeine into him. He’ll need it in order to not keel over in the shower.

While Dan makes himself a cup and tries not to think about the interview he has in an hour and a half and is not prepared for, he finds his thoughts drifting to his hot neighbor. Would it be weird if Dan bakes again today? Is that too soon? Dan already stupidly told Phil that he doesn’t usually cook. He should have told Phil that he baked all the time; that he should practically be in culinary school. _Then_ it wouldn’t be weird to come parading to Phil’s door with an endless stream of cakes and pies and brownies. They could eat strawberries and whipped cream together and Phil would playfully swipe some cream off Dan’s lips and lean forward to lick—

Dan’s pleasant fanfiction AU playing out in his head is rudely shattered by the sound of his doorbell ringing. Probably the post. Blearily, he trudges over to his door and pulls it open, rubbing the sleep from his eye with a fist. Dan’s eyes fly open with a start and he wonders if he somehow conjured Phil with his own inappropriate thoughts. “You’re not the postman.” Dan deadpans, trying not to stare at Phil dressed in business casual, no doubt for his very adult job that he has because he has his shit together. He looks amazing in a bright blue sweater with a button-up collar peeking out the neck. With his glasses, he looks like the kind of modern-professional guy that makes Dan wet.

Dan drops his hand to his side and fidgets with his joggers. Why’d he have to go ahead and wear the Pokemon trainer joggers? Why’d he match it with a Mario shirt? He doesn’t even think he’s wearing underwear. Dan feels like such a kid that he wants to dissolve.

“No, not the postman, sorry to disappoint!” Phil, sunshiney as always, smiles. “I could pretend though?”

“What?” Dan furrows his eyebrows, trying not to think about weird postman roleplay.

Phil giggles. “Here lemme try this again.” He closes the door and Dan stands where he is, staring unseeingly at the white wood. His doorbell rings again and Dan opens the door slowly, cautiously. “Package for a Dan Howell! Apartment 55?” Phil looks like he’s trying not to laugh and holds out Dan’s plate that he gave Phil for the crispy cakes.

Dan bursts out laughing, suddenly getting it. “Oh my god, you’re a dork!” He grabs the plate from Phil.

“Oi, don’t be rude to your postman. I do a public service, so you better respect me.”

Something embarrassing like ‘I’ll show you respect’ is on the tip of Dan’s tongue, but he catches it in time before it’s out of his mouth. He’s sleepy, but not that sleepy. Instead, Dan rolls his eyes and asks, “Uh, does that mean you ate all the crispy cakes already… because I’m pretty sure I gave you, like, fifteen.”

Phil widens his eyes comically and glances at his bare wrist, “Oh would you look at the time? I gotta go! Good to see you again, Dan. Don’t be a stranger.” Phil spins on his heel and rushes away.

Dan leans out his door and calls, “You have an addiction to sugar, Phil!”

Phil glances over his shoulder, “And you’re giving me my fix in more ways than one! Have a good morning!”

Dan can feel heat crawling under his skin. That’s the second time that Phil has flirted with him, unless he’s totally misreading things. Dan hopes he’s not misreading things. He’s already planning the next baked good for Phil, putting more thought into it than his interview. Would a wedding cake be too forward? He’s kidding— mostly.

Dan fixes his cup of coffee. He should probably write down what job he’s interviewing for this time, and maybe review his CV before. Dan sits down on his couch and finds himself switching on the TV. He should use GPS to see how far away the place is. Or he could practice his answer to the hardest question of all: “Why’d you go through four courses at uni only to drop out after finishing none of them?” Dan loses himself in a Doctor Who rerun instead.

 

***

 

“So Daniel,” the woman, whose name Dan has already forgotten, smiles. He fixates on the red lipstick on her teeth. “Why do you want to work for Ringwald PLC as a temp?”

“Oh, well.” Dan blinks, trying to look somewhere other than her teeth. From what Dan can gather, Ringwald PLC is a business consulting company and his job would require a lot of answering emails, printing copies, and taking notes during meetings. Getting coffee for his overloads. Trying not to cry in his cubicle. “I’m interested in… assisting. Consulting. I have experience with communication on many levels. Including, er, online—” unbidden, Dan’s brain supplies the thought of Dan messaging horny men on Grindr and he stumbles over his words— “B-both casual cum-communication and professional.” Dan squirms in his seat. His interviewer presses her lips together and her lipstick bleeds out of the confines of her cupid’s bow.

Her sharp eyes stare calculatingly at Dan. “Hmm, I see. Talk about some work experiences you’ve had in the past that may lend itself to this position.”

Dan nods and takes a moment to refocus his thoughts. He’s worked at and been fired from exactly two jobs. Both minimum wage positions at stores. “Of course. When I was in university, I had was employed at the local—”

“— **_HUMP me, FUCK me_ ** ! _”_ Dan’s answer is interrupted by the opening lines of CupcakKe’s “Deepthroat” blaring from his pocket. Dan’s chest tightens and his stomach drops into his shoes. His face is so hot that he fears he might combust. “ **_Daddy better make me CHOKE_ ** _!”_ Dan scrabbles to turn off his phone, silence it, decline the call, anything. He finally succeeds in powering the entire thing down. He stares widely at the now blank screen.

It’s like the next few moments move in slow motion and Dan swears he can see every little dust particle in the air with sharp accuracy. Dan thinks about the weird effects that adrenaline has on the body, and how most people go into these heightened states when their lives are in danger or their babies are stuck under cars… not when they’ve embarrassed themselves royally.   

The sudden silence in the room is deafening. Dan grips his phone and gathers the courage to look at Lipstick Teeth. Her face is set in a hard stare and her jaw is clenched. It looks like she’s about to call security, or the police. Maybe the FBI. Whatever hopes Dan has of her laughing off his misfortune is replaced with the overwhelming need to get the fuck out of there. Dan stands, mumbles, “Sorrythankyou” and “I’llbeleavingnow” and hightails it out of her office, tripping over nothing.

Dan is going to _murder_ Tyler for setting his own ringtone. He’s going to find him and strangle him with one of his own fashionable bow ties. Dan practically runs through Ringwald PLC, almost crashing into quite a few business suit-clad men and women. Dan ducks his face down and hopes that he can’t be blacklisted from all London businesses.

Once outside, Dan still doesn’t feel safe. He half expects to look behind and see Lipstick Teeth chasing him away from the building and shouting to never bring his deviant self back to this professional establishment. She probably has witchy powers and has already put a hex on Dan.

Once Dan is safely on the tube, he powers his phone up and immediately gets a text from Tyler. His ex-best friend is going to be blocked in about five seconds.

**Hey, bitch. Answer ur phone xx ty**

**i’m. going. to. kill. you. WITH MY BARE HANDS. -D**

**Finally. But y? xx ty**

**i was in a fucking interview when fucking CUPCAKKE INTERRUPTED IT.**

Not four seconds after sending the text, Tyler is calling Dan and apologising, while laughing loudly in his ear. Dan decides then and there that he needs better friends.

Suffice to say, when Dan comes home, he needs a distraction even more than he needed one yesterday. This time, he remembers to rid himself of his white button-up, tie, and slightly-too-short formal trousers (fuck sudden post-puberty growth spurts). Dan puts back on his pajamas from the night before, because he’s due to do laundry soon and can’t be arsed to find something other than the clothing pooled on his bedroom floor.

Dan looks in his pantry as his meager baking supplies. He’s got flour… and that’s pretty much it. Dan spies his half-empty jar of nutella and wonders if that will do him any good. He digs both ingredients out then promptly unscrews the lid of the nutella and sticks his finger in it. He sucks on his digit and briefly considers just sitting on the floor of his kitchen, eating nutella and trying to forget his entire existence. He could cry and jerk off at the same time— just add to his overall patheticness.

But if he makes something… he could take it to Phil. His next door neighbor practically invited him over. Dan glances at his phone, realizing that it’s still quite early and Phil’s probably at work like a good adult. Whatever Dan bakes, he wants it to be warm. Gooey. It’s all about association and sensation. Dan ignores the fact that he sounds a bit like a serial killer.

Dan groans, because that means he has to go back to the drawing board and apply for some more jobs. At this point, he’d rather eat glass.

Dan decides that he deserves a Halo binge first. He curls up on the couch and immerses himself in a campaign. He’s distracted though. He can’t stop rehashing his interview disaster. If it had happened to someone else, it would have been hilarious to Dan. It’s an interview horror-story. Something that happens to no one.

No one except Dan, that is. If Dan were to title his autobiography, it would be _Reasons Why Dan’s a Fail._

Dan pauses Halo, because he’s getting destroyed and now has CupcakKe stuck in his head. He throws down his controller and reaches for his laptop. Dan checks twitter, then facebook, then tumblr. Refreshes them all too many times. On a whim, he decides to make a text post on tumblr about his interview disaster. His fingers fly over the keys.

_Tl;dr: My very professional interview at a consulting agency was interrupted by my friend’s personalized ringtone of CupcakKe’s “Deepthroat.”_

Dan describes every detail— from the interviewer's traveling lipstick to his shamed sprint out of the building and on the tube. When he’s done with the post, he tags it hastily even though he assumes that no one will actually read it and it will eventually be swallowed by the dashboards of his 200 meager followers. Dan feels better after that, like he’s gotten everything off his chest.

He knows that the memory of his interview will come back to haunt him. Probably when he’s in bed, trying to sleep. But for now, Dan can focus on Halo and gets lost in the game for several hours. He doesn’t notice his phone exploding with notifications.

His flat is getting dark by the time that Dan shamefully emerges from his video game binge. He suddenly realizes that the only thing lighting him is the obnoxious blue glow of his television screen and his eyes feel like they’ve been rubbed over with sandpaper. He sheds the blanket around his shoulders and straightens his spine, back cracking in a dozen different places. Dan frowns, looking from his laptop to his kitchen. He’s wasted plenty of time and really should get back to his applications now. _But_ , he could also potentially see Phil tonight if he just does a little baking. He deserves to have a little bit of distraction after such a traumatic experience. 

Dan nods to himself and makes his way into the kitchen, using his laptop to look up recipes that he can make with nutella and flour. He’s surprised to find some ridiculously easy three ingredient nutella cookies that look like they were made for lazy sods like him. Thirty minutes later, Dan is pulling a dozen (ugly) cookies out of his oven. He’s impatient and, rather than letting them cool, he scrapes the cookies off his baking sheet and piles them on the plate that Phil returned that morning.

Dan freezes. Yikes, it was only that morning. He wonders if Phil will think he’s being creepy by bringing more baked goods over so soon. Does he care? Dan thinks about his interviewer being serenaded by CupcaKke that morning and decides he has not a single shred of dignity left to lose.

Before Dan’s determination can waver, he’s pocketing his keys to head out. He realizes upon plunging his hand into his pocket, that he’s still wearing Pokemon trainer joggers and a Mario t-shirt. He stops short, deposits the plate of cookies and his keys back on his counter, and heads to his bedroom to find something a little nicer— even if it’s just that black shirt he likes with the little stars along the collar. And if he decides to put on his tightest pair of ripped jeans, no one has to know.

Dan heads out the door to his apartment, heartbeat in his throat. Maybe he read it all wrong and Phil was actually trying to politely tell Dan that he doesn’t need help contracting diabetes, thank you very much. Dan looks wide-eyed at the door of apartment 57 and slowly raises his finger to press the doorbell. He pauses over the button for thirty seconds, briefly thinking about all the ways that this interaction could go wrong.

The chime goes off and Dan takes a deep breath. Phil answers his door, no longer looking like the modern business-casual man of Dan’s dreams. Not to say that his white t-shirt and simple blue jeans aren’t doing it for Dan. Phil smiles like Dan is his favorite person, even though they’ve only met three times now. “Hey, Dan! I could have sworn I smelled something delicious from flat 55. Well, something besides the resident.” Phil punctuates his sentence with a wink and Dan stutters.

Does Phil have to be so effortlessly charming and flirty? Dan holds the plate of cookies out with slightly shaking hands. He hopes Phil doesn’t notice the vibrating plate. “Y-yeah! Nutella cookies. I’m a stress baker and it’s been quite the day.”

Phil’s eyebrows furrow. “That’s too bad. Wanna come in for a cuppa and a cookie? You can tell me about it over a game of Mario Kart.” Dan’s jaw drops. Did he just hear Phil correctly? Phil looks confused at Dan’s reaction. “Well, I saw your shirt this morning and assumed you were a fan. Did I assume incorrectly?”

“Oh, no, no. Sorry, I was just. Uh, cracking my jaw.” Dan wants to facepalm. Instead, he forces a smile out like he’s not acting like a total dumbass.

“You should get that checked out. Probably the stress.” Phil nods sagely. “So, what do you say? Mario Kart and some snacks?”

Dan nods vigorously. “That sounds amazing to be honest. Thank you.” Phil opens the door wider and let’s Dan in. It’s odd to walk into Phil’s apartment, because it’s like walking into an alternate universe. The layout of the flat is exactly the same as Dan’s, but everything else couldn’t be more different. Dan immediately gets a sense of who Phil is, just by the furniture, knick-knacks, and decorations strewn about his flat. There’s maturity in the matching dark-grained wood furniture and color-coordinating rugs, curtains, and throw-pillows. But quirky plushies, books, DVDs, puzzles, and an abundance of houseplants provide a sense of playfulness.

“I like your place.” Dan says, honestly. He’s distracted by Phil’s anime collection, proudly nestled in the hutch in the living room.

Phil switches the kettle on in the kitchen. “Tea or instant coffee? Thanks, it’s probably a lot like yours.”

“Instant coffee?!” Dan gasps, aghast. “You pleb. I’ll have tea for sure.” Phil chuckles and tells Dan not to make fun of his refined tastes.

Dan lets out a huff of breath, “Yeah, but no. My apartment isn’t like yours at all. It is the pinnacle of “college dropout with sad, mismatched furniture that he begged his friends and family for.”” Dan drops his air quotes, realizing how much of a loser he is making himself out to be. “I mean, the layout is the same, of course. You like anime then?” Dan tries to change the subject, running a nervous hand through his hair.

Phil hums, and they talk about their current favorites. Dan is surprised to find that they have quite a few of the same favorites. They both give each other recommendations, and Phil invites him over again at some point to watch his rec: _Food Wars_. Dan agrees, careful not to tell Phil something like ‘invite me over any time, it’s not like I’m doing anything else with my life.’

After fixing tea to both their specifications, Phil deposits the cookies and mugs on the coffee table. It’s the only piece of mismatched furniture in the whole apartment and looks very old. If Dan squints, he can see names carved in the legs. Phil sees him staring. “This is the coffee table I got for my uni housing back in the day. I lived in a house with nine other people and we all carved our names into it once when we were drunk.”

Dan feels comfortable enough to poke a little fun at Phil. “How long ago was back in the day, old man?” Dan smirks and Phil rolls his eyes. He takes the plastic wrap off the top of Dan’s cookies and pries the top one from where it has stuck to the cookie underneath it. Dan pretends not to notice the effect his inability to let them cool had on the cookies.

Phil finally tears something like a cookie and a half from the pile and stuffs it in his mouth. Through a mouth full of cookie, Phil mumbles, “It wasn’t _that_ long ago. I’m only 29.” He powers up his Nintendo Switch and hands Dan the tiny red controller.

Dan takes a sip of tea, doing the math in his head. He turns 23 in a few months; their age difference isn’t _that_ bad. They’re both adults who can consent to safe and sane sexual acts. Plus, Phil is proving himself to be somewhat of a big ol’ kid on the inside. Dan wonders what Phil’s reaction would be if he knew what Dan was thinking. “You’re almost 30, Phil. That’s certifably old.”

Phil selects VS race and they go through the process of character and car selection. “Well, all right, then. If I’m old, then you’re a wee baby. What are you, 24?” Phil selects Tanooki Mario, practically inviting Dan to accuse him of being a furry. “I am _not_ a furry!”

“I’m 22. My birthday’s in a few months. Surprised you even know what a furry is, grandpa.” Dan knocks his shoulder into Phil, already feeling at home with this relative stranger.

After grumbling about being on the internet before Dan was born (mathematically impossible), Phil selects the Star Cup and they begin playing. At first, Dan is polite about always being in first place, until Phil starts to play dirty and target’s Dan’s character with every weapon. After that, Dan throws caution out of the window and the trash-talking begins.

“Fuck you in the fucking fuck-fuck!” Dan screams in reaction to Phil nailing him from behind with an item (not in the way Dan would like Phil to nail him).

“Very articulate, Daniel. Where’d you pick up that language?” Phil maneuvers his character around Dan’s spun-out Yoshi.

“From your mum!” Dan recovers quickly.

Phil snorts, “Kids these days.” Phil turns to smile at Dan and Dan is distracted by the blinding smile and little peek of tongue that sticks through Phil’s teeth. When he turns back to the game, face blazing, Dan is in fourth.

They play round after round of Mario Kart, both of them proving to be relatively matched. Dan finds himself in first place a few more times than Phil, and Phil ends up landing himself in sixth place a couple of times. They eat way too many nutella cookies (which Dan thinks are a little dry, but otherwise 8/10 would eat again).

While they play, Phil’s flat is filled with loud whoops of victory, trash-talking, blatant flirting, and more banter than Dan and his younger brother have when they play Mario Kart. There’s a fun sort of tension crackling between the two of them, too. It’s playful and maybe a little bit sexual, but that might be Dan projecting. Either way, there’s something about Phil that’s easy. He’s laid back and fun to be around. It’s just easy.

Dan has no idea how much time passes when he wins one too many races and Phil flops back on the couch and groans, “Ugh, fine! You win, Dan. I have to be done or I’m going to start playing dirty.”

Dan collapses back on the couch with Phil. “Playing dirty, eh? I’d like to see what that entails.”

Phil smirks and Dan swears his voice deepens when he says, “No, you don’t.”

A shiver runs down Dan’s spine. He wishes he could climb up on Phil’s lap and kiss the smirk off his mouth. He stops that train of thought before it gets out of hand and he does something embarrassing like pop a boner. Dan’s eyes widen, “Uh, well I better get out of your hair. What time even is it?” Dan pats around his thighs, feeling for his phone. He doesn’t notice Phil follow the movement with his eyes.

“Late, I think.” Phil, replies. Dan’s stomach chooses that moment to remind him that he hasn’t had a proper dinner. Phil laughs, bright and sharp. “Hungry?” There’s a glint in Phil’s eye.

“Uh, yeah, I think I need to go eat dinner…” Without the ongoing Mario Kart game, the flat seems too quiet and Dan twitches anxiously. “I’ll see you around, then?” Dan pushes himself off the couch and wipes his sweating hands against the fabric of his jeans.

Phil smiles up at Dan, still lounging back on the couch, legs spread. It isn’t helping Dan’s desire to hop in his lap. “I’ll see you around!”

Dan all but rushes out of the flat. So Phil is… amazing. Not only is he gorgeous and kind, he likes a lot of the same things that Dan enjoys. He’s charming and funny and flirty. Unbidden, the image of Phil lounging back on his sofa, legs spread and arms behind his head, flits through Dan’s mind. Dan imagines pressing himself against Phil’s chest, pushing down into his lap, kissing Phil’s lips. Dan shakes his head. Thinks instead about his nana eating mashed potatoes with her hands. It works as a distraction, at least momentarily.

Dan makes a sad dinner of pasta without sauce and ignores his applications because it’s _entirely_ too late to apply for jobs. He’s about to commence his nightly social media refresh sesh when he notices that his tumblr post has gained  a lot of notes. Like, _a lot of notes._ Enough notes that it’s also all over twitter. Has Dan randomly gone viral and a large portion of the internet knows his shame? Dan’s face burns and he starts sweating, because he’s always been very comfortable in his online anonymity, thank you very much. His real life friends don’t need to know the embarrassing things that Dan has done online. His mind flashes back to Pokemon fanfiction he posted on livejournal back in the day or offensive comments he left on people’s youtube videos. And don’t even get Dan started on the since-deleted naked selfies…. Dark times.

Dan scrolls through reblog comments and replies of strangers laughing at his misfortune. His ask box is a mess, too. They range from variations of “lmao” to sexual advances. He’s gained thousands of followers and many of them have found his selfie tag. Thankfully, most of the photos are not that cringe (minus a couple older ones where he thought he looked good when he smoldered at the camera or bit his lip).

Suddenly, Dan finds himself with a fanbase. He answers an anonymous ask that says “Daddy, will u make me choke?” with “no, go do your homework.” and it’s the beginning of the end for Dan’s online anonymity.

 

***

 

Although he mourns the loss of his ability to post on the internet and not have anyone see it, his newfound online fame serves as a welcome distraction while Dan blunders through the adult world. Dan continues to apply for jobs, but he starts to look outside the realm of sad, office positions. He turns to Craigslist, which means that he now has to sift through a lot of sketchy or to-good-to-be-true positions that would probably turn out to be convoluted kidnapping schemes.

There’s a host of boring, regular jobs that he applies for that he just can’t rouse any fake passion for and it’s so painfully obvious to every interviewer, that he can’t blame them for not hiring him. He tries to bring himself to just pop into his local Tescos or the coffeeshop down the road and ask for a job, but the thought of working ten hours a day for minimum wage makes his heart sink into his shoes. He’s saving it as a last resort, when his parents refuse to help him with bills.

Then, there are the interviews that he goes for that, no matter how much caution and research he does before applying, turn out to be... not what they’ve claimed to be. Some are innocuous: internships that turn out to be unpaid. Remote positions (hell yeah, he can work from home?) that turn out to be so pathetically part-time that he wouldn’t earn enough to buy a kinder egg from the corner store. Then, there are the jobs that turn out to be sketchy. Memorably, Dan shows up to an interview for a travel company, only to discover an abandoned warehouse in place of the address they provided.

And most recently, Dan responds to a call for male models (he’s not vain, just desperate. And the people online that he was interacting with thought he was pretty enough), only to discover that, when posting the job online, they just so happened to forget a few choice words in the job description.

Dan arrives to that interview feeling hopeful. The pay is very promising. And it seems like an interesting enough position— better than wasting his youth behind a computer monitor, typing in data and choking beneath the tight knot of a necktie. He wakes up that morning and puts on something other than his usual interview attire, which feels like a relief even though it is just his moth button-up with a cardigan and black jeans. The building is close enough for Dan to walk to, and he has time to get a coffee and muffin on the way. The building itself is a sleek, modern grey and white; everyone inside is fashionable and polite. A black man in a fitted, maroon suit who introduces himself as Weston, leads Dan to the office where his interview will take place. He makes casual conversation with him, asking about TV shows and music Dan likes to listen to.

Dan sits down in a comfy swivel chair, across an empty desk and Weston offers him tea before he leaves, which Dan declines. A few minutes later, another person opens the door and shakes Dan’s hand.

“Hi Daniel. It’s good to meet you. I’m Logan. I go by they, just so you know.” Their curly hair and shaved sides makes Dan almost wish that he kept his hair natural that morning. Or that he had any hairstyle other than his current, wannabe-k-pop-star fringe. Dan also can’t help but notice that Logan’s red lipstick is pristine, with a cuttingly defined cupid’s bow.

Dan smiles, “Great to meet you.”

Logan gestures to their seats and they begin talking. It’s casual and Dan feels none of usual job-related anxiety. Logan asks about past positions and Dan’s time in university, and Dan feels comfortable with being honest, but also recognizing the things he learned while being a nomadic student. He is able to talk honestly about his interests in art and fashion, and Logan responds with genuine interest. Dan has the feeling that Logan would laugh it off if CupcaKke decided to make an appearance during this interview.

“Well, Daniel. Thank you for letting me get to know you. We would love to have you on board.” Dan’s heart soars. “Of course, there are a few logistical things I need to ask you about in regard to the position.” Logan taps their trimmed fingernails against the smooth surface of their desk. “As you know, we are hiring male models to put out content for our adult site, Cock Stock. However, I think you would be—”

Dan blinks, “—pardon?”

Cut off, Logan pauses and lifts a single, bushy eyebrow. “Your photos would be for Cock Stock. Now, I know you’ve come to apply as a model, but I think your personality would be better fit for video. You’ve a great voice, too, very posh. Our customers would love that.”

Dan blinks. Opens his mouth to speak. Closes it. Blinks some more.

Logan’s face morphs from all-business to a little bit more unsure. “You, uh.” Logan clears their throat and closes their eyes. “Didn’t know this is a gay porn company, did you?”

Dan blinks and shakes his head. “Ah, I, uh. No.”

Logan pinches the bridge of their nose and breathes a couple of deep breaths. “I have to go have a very important conversation with an intern.” They say stiffly. “So sorry for wasting your time, Daniel.” Logan stands up and, not looking at Dan, hands him a business card. “My offer still stands if you ever change your mind.” With that, Logan leaves the room where Dan is glued woodenly to his seat, reeling from the conversation.

 

***

 

Dan deletes the final sentence of his newest tumblr post and rewrites it to sound funnier. A little more self-deprecating: “ _Honestly, it says something about me that I would turn down a job offer as perfect as posing for Cock Stock. Trust me, it’s on my list as last resorts. Above Tesco, for sure_.” Dan is getting over the initial shock of accidentally applying to work for porn, and he realizes it isn’t the worst interview situation he has been in. Unfortunate, but not the worst.

Dan reads over his post once more. It seems like the only thing that’s been keeping him sane has been telling the internet about his failures.

And baking, of course. Right now, Dan has a chocolate cake in the oven. It smells absolutely heavenly and he can’t wait to take it out, cut out a few warm slices, and take them to Phil.

And of course, when he says that baking has kept him sane, he really means Phil.

Phil is… well, Phil is wonderful, as it turns out. These past few weeks, anytime he brings over a dessert, Phil returns the gesture with takeout and a movie, anime, or video game marathon. Most recently, they’ve made their way through the _Crash Bandicoot N. Sane Trilogy_ , which proved to be the ultimate test of their burgeoning friendship. There has been many nights where, after yelling his voice hoarse, Dan blinks blearily at his iPhone clock only to see that it’s 3 AM and that he’s spent the better part of eight hours with Phil.

Dan still feels obligated to bring some sort of baked good whenever he sees Phil, which is proving to be inconvenient. He’s probably being silly; Phil would be more than happy to just hang out with Dan and the sweets are just an added benefit, but Dan can’t stop himself. What if he showed up at Phil’s without anything in hand and Phil just blinked at him and Dan had to make up some blatant lie about needing a cup of sugar? Or picking up a hoodie he left at Phil’s? He figures he better not risk it, even if that means cracking open a box of store-bought biscuits or muffins, heating them up in the microwave, and placing them on a plate to look legit. Dan has… definitely _not_ done that.

Dan posts his story about accidentally applying to a gay porn company and watches the notes and asks flow in. He answers a few with clever responses and relatable gifs, and takes the cake out of the oven when his timer goes off. He places the cake on the oven to cool and considers just taking it out of its pan and frosting it immediately.

While Dan is debating the pros and cons of bringing over piping-hot cake with rapidly-melting frosting to Phil, his doorbell rings. It’s not time for the postman, and literally no one else visits Dan, so Dan already knows it’s Phil before he opens the door. Still, he’s confused as he lets Phil in.

“Hey, I was just about to come over!” Dan smiles, depositing his mother’s old oven mitt on the counter.

Dan just barely catches Phil rolling his eyes. “I know you were, I could smell the cake.”

Dan sweats. Has Phil figured him out? Is he here to tell him off? Dan laughs nervously. “You know me… always baking. The cake needs to cool off before it can be frosted. Wanna watch something?”

To his continued surprise, Phil collapses on Dan’s dilapidated couch. “Yeah, sure. What were you thinking?”

“Oh, uh.” Dan stands, hovering around the couch. “Don’t you want to go back to yours? My couch isn’t all that great.” Dan’s excuse sounds flimsy, even to his own ears. But Phil is… _an adult._ Dan doesn’t want Phil to spend too much time in Dan’s very much _not adult_ apartment, because he might realize that Dan is still just a kid pretending to know what he’s doing and then he’ll never fuck him. Or, rather, Phil will want to stop being friends with Dan. Dan fixates on the pile of unfolded laundry next to the sofa and the haphazard stack of DVDs that he’s been too lazy to put away in their cases. He hopes that the place doesn’t smell like feet or something and he’s gone nose-blind to it, but he can’t be sure.

“Nah, I wanted to get out of my flat tonight.”

Dan lets out a noise of disbelief. “ _Phil_ ,” he whines, “Our flats are the same.”

“Exactly! So it doesn’t matter if we are in mine or yours. So sit your ass down, Daniel.” Dan follows Phil’s orders, partly because he doesn’t have another plausible argument and also because he’ll do anything if Phil uses that voice.

“ _Kill Bill_?” Dan asks meekly, recovering from the shot of adrenaline that Phil’s commanding voice has sent through his body. A couple of days ago, they discussed their shared love for the movie and both agreed to watch it together soon. Dan knows that his copy is somewhere in the leaning tower of DVDs.

Phil hums, places his arms behind his head, and closes his eyes. Dan stares at Phil relaxing on his couch, looking like he owns the place. It’s doing things to Dan’s brain. “Yeah, _Kill Bill_ sounds good. Later. How’s the job hunt been going?” Phil opens his eyes then and smiles gently. That’s another thing Phil has been doing these past few weeks. He’s genuine and kind, slowly prying information out of Dan about college troubles and job hunting and Dan’s insecurity about being out of school for the first time in his life. At first, Dan tried not to reveal too much, but he’s discovered that Phil is just good to talk to. Phil’s been in a couple positions in the video editing industry. He gives helpful advice, offers to help Dan with his CV, and assures Dan just when he needs it. Tyler has already told Dan, on multiple occasions, to propose. “How did that one you were telling me about the other day go?” Phil prompts, “The modeling one?:

A blush spreads across Dan’s face and neck and he avoids Phil’s eyes. Dan hasn’t even held back some of the more embarrassing interview mishaps from Phil, because Phil’s been such a good sport about them. They had a long laugh about the “Deepthroat” incident. Somehow, this most recent situation is a new level of embarrassing. “Uh, yeah.” Dan stutters, “I-it’s not gonna work out.”

Phil springs forward, eyes earnest. “What? What do you mean it’s not gonna work out?! You seemed really excited about it and the description sounded amazing! What happened?”

Dan blinks, “Ah, well, you know. It’s just not gonna fit,” Dan winces at the unintentional wording and his face burns brighter, a sweat breaking out along his hairline. “I mean, uh, it’s not a good fit for _me_.”

“Did they reject you? Phil furrows his eyebrows “If so, they’re the crazy ones, Dan. You could model anyone under the table. If they saw your face and turned you away, then obviously they don’t know what they’re talking abo—”

“It was a gay porn company.” Dan blurts out, cutting Phil off. He snaps his mouth shut and watches Phil’s face contort from confusion, to concentration, to shock.

“A… porn?” Phil squeaks eloquently.

In any other situation, Dan would tease him mercilessly about Phil saying the phrase “a porn.” However, now is not the time. “Yeah, I got there and it was great and they were all professional, but relaxed and accepting. I had a great interview and then my interviewer started talking to me about how my photos would be used for their “Cock Stock” series, but they thought I could be… uh, well. They thought I should be recorded. Instead.” Dan stops and wipes the sweat off his upper lip. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see a curl forming against his temple because of all the sweat. The silence in his flat is deafening.

Suddenly, Phil bursts out laughing. Dan watches helplessly as Phil clutches his stomach and  squeezes his eyes shut with the strength of his guffaws.

“Shut up! Stop laughing at me!” Dan grumbles, crossing his arms. The thought of him doing porn can’t be _that_ funny. Despite his plees, Phil continues laughing. For an embarrassingly long time. “Look, I get I’m weird and gangly. But I could be a porn star!” Dan huffs, pushing himself off the sofa to go fiddle with the cake.

Phil catches Dan’s sleeve and gasps, “Stop, stop.” Dan stares down at Phil, unimpressed. “I’m not l-laughing at you.” Dan’s unimpressed looks turns to one of disbelief and Phil takes a couple of deep breaths to stop his giggles. “Ok, I’m laughing a little bit at you, but at your misfortune. Not, not…” Phil clears his throat, his voice sounding strained. “Not at you being in porn. You’d be… fine. At that.” Phil laughs nervously this time and doesn’t meet Dan’s eye.

Dan decides to ignore that almost compliment, otherwise he’ll start getting his hopes up about getting Phil in his bed. Phil doesn’t want Dan in his bed, does he? “Oh, well. I guess you can laugh at my misfortune.” Dan sits back down next to Phil. “It _is_ pretty fucking funny. Only me, Phil. Only me.” Dan puts his head in his hands and groans.

Another laugh bursts out of Phil’s mouth. “Bloody hell. You have lousy luck. How do you find yourself in these situations?” Phil pats Dan’s back in awkward sympathy. Dan doesn’t want to think about how sweaty his back must feel after this conversation.

“The internet is loving it, though.” Dan grabs his laptop off the table and shows Phil his newest post. It’s another thing he’s shared with Phil, figuring it would be better than Phil randomly finding the story on his own.

Phil reads it and starts laughing again. This time Dan rolls his eyes and leaves him to it, getting up to frost the cake while Phil is being a twat. Phil reads funny responses and asks out loud, while Dan clumsily applies store-bought frosting to the outside of his chocolate cake. Dan has to laugh at some of his “fans” comments.

“Hey, Dan, listen to this one: ‘this should be a podcast series. I’d listen the fuck out of it.’ That’s really not a bad idea!” Phil’s head appears over the top of Dan’s sofa right as Dan is sucking two frosting-covered fingers into his mouth. “Oh, am I disrupting your alone-time?” Phil smirks, “Are you practicing for your close-up?”

Dan pulls his fingers out with a pop, which is really not helping his case at all. He must be imagining Phil’s eyes following the wetness of Dan’s fingertips as they pull out from his mouth. He’s imagining it. “Shut up! I hate you.” Dan washes his fingers, cuts two pieces of cake, and brings them to his coffee table.

“We have to come up with your porn name, Danny.” Phil says, shoveling a huge bite of cake into his mouth and expressing his appreciation with a low hum.

“Shut uuuup.” Dan rolls his eyes and eats his own bite of cake. “Holy shit, this is good. I am _actually_ having an orgasm.”

“Dan, leave the porn practice for when I’m out of your flat. Or at least invite me when things get interesting.”

Dan licks the chocolate frosting off his lips. “Hey Phil?”

Phil grins, “Shut up?”

“Yes, please.”

Phil laughs and they sit in companionable silence, eating chocolate cake. “Ok, but that podcast idea is so smart. I can scrounge up some old equipment for you to use. You’re funny and it’s a way to use your posh, southern voice in a not-so-r-rated context.”

Dan chokes on his forkful of chocolate cake and splutters.

 

***

 

Dan does end up taking the internet’s suggestion to start a podcast. He conducts a little bit of research himself, but Phil ends up helping him with the technical side of things, at least until Dan can learn it all himself. They replace their nightly movie marathons with scripting and planning. For the first time in a really long time, Dan is excited about something he’s doing. He wakes up everyday, looking forward to scripting out podcast episodes and talking with Phil about audio editing programs. If his job applications are getting neglected and the amount of interviews he attends is waning, he’s ignoring it. He’s also letting more and more of his mother’s worried phone calls go to voicemail.

At these podcast planning sessions, Dan always makes snacks, feeling now like he has to repay Phil for his kindness. As it is, the first night that Phil brings over some sound equipment to test, Dan tries to insist that he can’t take the (albeit older) microphone, pop-filter, and noise-cancelling headphones.

“Nah, don’t worry. The office isn’t using them; they always have to buy the newest stuff.” Phil ignores Dan’s protests, already inserting wires into Dan’s Macbook and playing with his downloaded copy of Audacity.

Dan fidgets with his plate of brownies. “Are you sure? You won’t get into trouble for nicking company gadgets or whatever?”

Phil lets out a whoop of victory when his playback test works correctly. “No, don’t worry, Danny. I’ve been there long enough. They won’t fire me for a pair of old headphones.”

Dan wipes his hands on his pants and sits next to Phil on his couch, watching him work lightening-fast with the program. “You’re supposed to be teaching me, speedy. Giving me tips.”

“I’ll give you a tip,” Phil murmurs, distractedly. Dan freezes like a deer in headlights, but Phil doesn’t seem to notice his own innuendo, too lost in his editing program. Dan sorts of wants to shake Phil, because he continues to be so effortlessly flirty and suggestive, but Dan still can’t tell if it’s just how Phil interacts with friends or he actually wants to get in Dan’s pants. Dan, of course, would happily offer Phil a gilded invitation into his pants, if he was sure it would be welcome. But Dan appreciates Phil’s friendship way too much to take the chance.

“I’ll take any tip you are willing to offer,” Dan says cheekily. This gets Phil’s attention, because Dan has been mostly sticking to just glossing over Phil’s flirtiness.

Phil smiles and Dan swears there’s a glint in his eye. “I’ll give you all the tips you want, later. For now, I just want to see if I can get everything working. You’ve planned, what, six episodes?” Dan confirms. “Well, there’s plenty of time for you to learn about the magic I’m working.”

That night, over a plate of brownies, (“Dan, I think we need to stop hanging out; I’m starting to have a hard time buttoning the top button of my trousers.”) Phil helps Dan record his first episode of the _Reasons Why Dan’s a Fail_ podcast, complete with a catchy little stylophone jingle at the beginning. At first, it’s awkward to essentially talk to himself while Phil is still in the room, and he knows there are too many lengthy pauses and he’s stumbling over his words. Phil, for his part, smiles at him encouragingly or throws him thumbs-up when Dan is feeling particularly insecure.

Then there’s a point where something shifts and Dan feels comfortable with talking into the mic. His first episode is about the original interview mishap that got him followers, and he finds himself telling a hilarious story, with barely any help from his notes. Dan knows he’s nailing it when he sees Phil, in the corner, keeping an eye on audio levels and trying not to laugh. While Dan describes Lipstick Woman’s menacing glare, Phil is red in the face, with a fist pressed to his mouth.

“I’ve never understood the phrase, “if looks could kill,” until that moment, internet. Lipstick Woman was powering up, I could tell. I had to get out of there, and quickly, or her lasers would become fully charged and behead me.” Phil finally laughs and Dan wonders if the audio is picking it up. “You might hear my tech guy in the background, by the way. He can’t handle my hilarity, clearly.” Phil rolls his eyes, but chuckles and Dan can feel a little happy ball of warmth grow in his stomach.

The episode isn’t long. When Dan signs off with a slightly awkward, “Until next time, internet!” there’s about 25 minutes of audio. Phil has made note of a couple timestamps to cut and he does so while Dan watches his maneuvers over his shoulder. They’re pressed close together on Dan’s couch and Dan is distracted by the way that Phil smells.

“Do you want to listen to it again, or just post it?” Phil asks, inclining his head toward Dan, who blinks at the close proximity of his piercing blue eyes.

Dan’s eyes flicker to his lips, but he schools himself quickly. Phil doesn’t seem to notice. “Uh, I don’t know if I could hear myself talk for 25 minutes. I must sound like a twat.” Dan shakes his head. “Nah, let’s just post it. It’s the pilot, anyway.”

“You don’t sound like a twat. I think this’ll be really successful.” Phil turns back to the computer and Dan breathes out slowly through his mouth. Phil normalizes the audio and messes with little slide-y tools that Dan doesn’t understand, absently naming the different tools for Dan and providing commentary to what he’s doing. Somehow, Phil is even more attractive when he’s being all technical and showing off his knowledge. Dad af, in a sexy way. Dan finds himself distracted by Phil’s lips while he talks, and Dan knows it going to take awhile for him to learn this stuff at this rate. While the audio is being converted into a compatible file, they eat brownies in celebration and talk about when Dan might release his next episode.

“Thanks for this, Phil.” Dan watches the little progress bar in the corner of the program, wondering if this is going to be a success. He has a good feeling about it, even though its not making him money and will only ever be a creative outlet.

Phil wraps his arm around Dan’s shoulder, sending a shower of tingles through his torso. Phil’s hand lands on his bicep and Phil squeezes in a side-hug. “Course, Dan. It’s gonna be fun.”

“Fun,” Dan squeaks in response. The simple touch of Phil’s hand is heading straight to his groin area and, bloody hell, is he that touch-starved? Dan closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath. He needs to get laid.

Phil removes his arm from Dan’s shoulders, but only to place it on the couch directly above him. There it stays for the rest of the evening while they wait for the audio to upload to SoundCloud. They rewatch _Stranger Things_ and Dan finds himself unable to follow the plot of episodes that he’s already seen. All he can think about is the warmth of Phil’s arm and open side radiating against Dan’s body. He is hyper-fixated on the centimeter space between them and fantasies of closing the space, pressing in closely to Phil and fixing his mouth to that long, pale neck.

Later, when Phil is gone and the podcast has been posted to all the necessary social medias, Dan takes a hot shower and jerks himself off frantically. He desperately tries not to think about how warm and wonderful Phil’s body felt next to his and fails. As his hand slides over soap-slicked, hard skin, he tries to conjure images of the people that he’s recently had sex with. However, their faces have blurred with time and its harder to remember what it felt like touching them than it is to remember what it felt like for Phil to squeeze him. Every time Dan closes his eyes and lets his head fall back into the spray, his mind is invaded by bright blue eyes. Dan is fucked.

 

***

The podcast is a smash hit with his followers. He gains a sizable, steady pool of listeners who interact with his posts, create wonderful and creepy fanart for him, send him wonderful and creepy messages, and donate to the Patreon that Dan doesn’t waste time setting up. He doesn’t make a lot of money— not enough to even touch most of his bills. But any little bit helps, especially because Dan is now even more distracted from his job hunt, if that’s even possible.

The only people who doesn’t seem to understand his newfound passion are his parents. When he finally starts answering their phone calls, they feign interest in his “little hobby,” and hint at how long he’s been in London without a job to show for it. Dan understands their worry and always assure them that he’s _looking._ He’s _trying_. In reality, Dan’s CV gathers dust on his coffee table, next to a notebook of drafted scripts and scribbles of new ideas for his podcast. Job search portals have been deleted from Dan’s bookmark bar to make way for tips on editing audio or getting a podcast on iTunes or Spotify.

Phil continues to help him, even though Dan learns enough of the editing side of things to be able to make his own podcasts. But Dan can’t find it in him to tell Phil he doesn’t need him anymore, and it’s even more fun to record a podcast when he has a live audience reacting to his little stories and, on more than one occasion, jumping on the microphone and putting his two cents in.

“Wait, wait. You aren’t telling this story accurately, Daniel.” Phil cuts in by shoving his head next to Dan’s shoulder and speaking into the microphone that is balanced on the side table next to Dan’s couch. Suddenly, Dan is getting a glorious noseful of Lynx and raspberries and his head swims.  

“E-excuse me.” Except the word comes out sounding like Dan just got a knee in the balls. He clears his throat, getting his bearings. “You’re my intern; what makes you think you can take the microphone away from the star of the show?”

“Intern!” Phil returns indignantly, shoving Dan with his shoulder.

“Oi, oi, no shoving! Fine how would you tell this story?” Dan rolls his eyes, despite Phil not being able to see.

“I was lucky enough to see this unfold before my very eyes. Dan isn’t telling it right because he’s oblivious.” Phil ignores Dan’s own noise of indignation and launches into a retelling of an unfortunate social interaction Dan had at the pub a couple days before.

Phil had surprised him by showing up to Dan’s door with a beautiful lady on his arm. Dan would be lying if he had said that his stomach hadn’t fallen into his ass and he felt like crying on the spot. She was blonde with pale blue eyes and a smile that was so genuinely sweet that Dan couldn’t even hate her. “Dan!” Phil had said, still looking like Dan was his favorite person in the world. Dan wanted to frown at him, but, as always found himself returning Phil’s infectious smile instead. Dumb Phil and his dumb smile. “This is my friend, Hazel. Get dressed, we’re going to the pub!”

Hazel had smiled and offered a cheerful hello to Dan, but Dan just blinked back at Phil. So she was a friend. Hopefully just a friend, or Dan was about to call his family up and tell them that it was all fun while it lasted, but he was ready to come back to Reading, thank you very much, oh and could they possibly bludgeon him with a heavy object once he arrived? “A pub?” Dan couldn’t disguise the disgust in his voice.

Phil chuckled, “Don’t sound like I suggested I go roger your mum, or something. I want you to meet some of my other friends!” Phil wrapped his hands around Hazel’s shoulders and rocked her back and forth. Dan’s eyes narrowed on the friendly touch like he could laser Phil’s fingers off if he stared hard enough. “There’s Hazel and Louise and PJ. You’ll love them all.”

Dan ended up agreeing because Phil switched his eyes to “high-intensity, watery pleading mode” and Dan was unable to deny such adorableness. He left Phil and Hazel on his couch to chat, while he changed into an outfit more pub-appropriate than joggers. He put more thought into his outfit, shrugging on a leather jacket over his usual black, hoping to turn Phil’s attention from his beautiful lady friend to Dan. Because he’s a jealous bitch like that.

The pub turned out to be fine. Phil’s friends were great— all funny, creative types that Dan should have fit right in with. Dan couldn’t help but pout a little at how many good friends Phil had. They all had inside jokes and Phil was touchy and giggly with all of them. It helped cement the fact that Phil was probably not into Dan, but just acted that way with all his close friends. Dan knew he was being a little moody in his corner of the booth, but he couldn’t help it. Phil was pressed to his shoulder and Dan could feel every centimeter of his warm side, but PJ was similarly pressed up against Phil’s other side. Dan wasn’t special.

While the lot of them had a conversation about “their YouTube days,” because apparently they all made videos at one point until choosing more adult-y paths, Dan indicated he wanted to buy the next round. He needed some room to breathe, especially while they were all having mature conversations about messing around on the internet in their early twenties. They giggled about capturing their embarrassing early adulthood in vlogs and expressed relief at finding “real jobs.”  None of it was directed at Dan, but it got under his skin anyway. Phil and PJ slid from the booth, to allow Dan his exit, but only Phil slid back in.

“Five rounds is a lot to get, Dan. Lemme help.” PJ offered a friendly smile and Dan nodded, leading the way toward the bar. They leaned up against the counter to get the bartender’s attention. She help up a finger toward them, indicating she’d be there in a second. “You know, they all talk about YouTube like it was years ago. I actually still make videos.” PJ absently drummed his fingers on the bar.

And that made Dan feel a bit better. “Oh? I’ll have to check them out sometime,” he replied politely.

“If you want. Mostly weird artsy videos, but I have fun with them.” PJ gave Dan his channel name and, after a couple more seconds of silence, said, “It’s good to finally meet you. You know, Phil won’t shut up about you.”

Dan’s head whipped toward PJ at that, but he tried to sound nonchalant. “Oh?” Dan asked. “All good things I hope?”

PJ smirked. “Of course.” The bartender came over to get Dan’s order, and PJ murmured something about knowing too much about _all_ the good things about Dan. He was too preoccupied with relaying everyone’s orders to think too long about PJ’s comment.

The bartender left to pour their pints and retrieve their bottles. “He likes you.” PJ said to Dan, studying Dan’s reaction.

Dan had schooled his face, trying not to read too much into PJ’s comment. “I like Phil, too. He’s really helped me get acquainted to London. And he’s helped me with this podcast thing.”

PJ nodded seriously, then broke into a grin, “Oh, yeah! I’ve listened to that. _You_ could be a YouTuber, Dan.” The bartender set their drinks on the table with a harsh “clunk,” and Dan shrugged the comment off, wondering how many of Phil’s friends had already listened to some of Dan’s most embarrassing moments. They began their trek back to the table.

PJ made it back successfully. Dan, meanwhile, found himself slipping backwards, glasses flying over him, seemingly in slow motion. He landed painfully on the floor, glasses smashing around him. The beer soaked through him, the yeasty stench assaulting his nose. After bemoaning his bad luck for a moment, Dan shoved himself up on an elbow and rubbed the back of his throbbing head. The floor underneath his fingers was sticky with alcohol and other unknown substances that Dan didn’t want to think too hard about.

Appearing above him was a tall, slightly older, pale man that Dan thought was Phil until he blinked and his double-vision cleared. The man had shorted, lighter hair and was sorta attractive in an “out to the pub with the lads” kinda way. He reached out his hand, which Dan grabbed gratefully. He hauled Dan up and steadied him with hands on his biceps. “All right, mate?”

Dan nodded and tried to extract himself from the stranger, “I’m fine, thanks. Just slipped, I think.”

The guy kept a solid grip on Dan’s shoulders and all Dan could think was _oh no_. “You sure you’re not hammered? Look, I’ll call ya a cab.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “No, thanks. I’m good. Kind of want to wipe the beer off my face, if you don’t mind.” To Dan’s utter shock and horror, the guy, still clutching his arm, dragged him to his own table and ripped a wad of napkins out of their holder. Dan could feel eyes on him as the bar watched the interaction unfold. He proceeded to rub the thin paper napkins on Dan’s face, mopping up the beer. Dan was frozen.

“There ya go, mate. Right as rain. You have some on your trousers, too.”

Dan’s eyes widened and he unfroze. Right as the guy moved to rub quickly disintegrating napkin against his crotch, Dan caught the guys wrist. “Oh, thanks. I got that. I’m just going to, uh, go back to my table now.” Dan edged back, only to be caught by large, powerful hands once again. He wanted to groan. He wasn’t a blow-up doll to be manhandled around by this crooked-nosed lad. Why was this his life? And why couldn’t he just tell the guy to fuck off and be on his way?

“I’ll help you back, lad.” Unnecessarily, the man guided Dan back to his table where all his friends were watching him with pursed lips. Dan could tell they were all trying not to laugh. He wanted to turn right around and just exit the pub.

Phil rose from where he had found himself on the outside of the booth. “Thanks, mate. I’ll get him from here.” Phil reached out to guide Dan to the table, visibly biting his lip to hold back a laugh. “He’s cut off for the night, don’t you worry.”

The man nodded sagely, then leaned down into Dan’s space. His breath stank of alcohol and Dan couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose. “My name’s Joseph. I’m around this pub a lot, so don’t be a stranger.” One more clap against the shoulder and Joseph was gone. Dan had groaned and put his head into his hands while, one by one, each of his friends lost it. The rest of the night went by uneventfully, with Dan finally loosening up around Phil’s friends. There was nothing like being publicly humiliated to really annihilate first impression jitters. PJ’s words echoed in the back of his head every time Phil aimed a soft smile Dan’s way or placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Dan listens intently to Phil’s retelling of the story. “Well what about this awkward encounter did I get wrong, then, Phil? Please, bless me with your bystander wisdom.” Dan inclines his head toward Phil, which is a big mistake because Phil’s so bloody close in order to be heard by the microphone. He’s quite literally face to face with Phil. Dan gulps harshly.

Phil rolls his eyes. “Mate, this guy was _obviously_ into you. He was hoping that, after being your knight in shining armor, you’d let him sweep you off your feet. Or, at least, sweep you into the loo for a quickie.” An evil glimmer twinkles in Phil’s eyes.

“Phil!” Dan squawks, flailing his arms a little. He’s _not_ going to let Phil talk about Dan’s love life. Or lack thereof. Nope.

“What? I’m just saying, he was gagging for it. You just bat for the other team.”

Dan blinks and clears his throat. Bats for the…? There’s a long pause of silence and Phil looks uncomfortable that such a sentence came out of his mouth. Before Phil can retract it or apologise, Dan bursts out laughing. “Ph-Phil. You think—” Dan laughs again. “Mate, no. I bat for both teams. All teams. I play all positions.” Phil lifts himself off Dan’s shoulder and Dan takes the headphones off his ears. They’ll cut this out; he’s not too keen on coming out to the whole internet. At least, not yet.

Phil grimaces, “Oh, shit, sorry, Dan. I kind of just assumed. You were so embarrassed about the gay porn company…”

Dan throws his hands up, “It was a _porn_ company, Phil! I was a little shocked about accidentally applying to work in porn, not that it wasn’t for the straights!”

“PJ said— you’ve ignored all— you ignored that guy at the pub.” Phil stutters, hands up in surrender.

“He was drunk! And I wasn’t out to pull, for fuck’s sake!” Dan laughs at Phil’s expression. He takes pity on Phil and offers him a chocolate chip cookie from the plate of them on Dan’s coffee table. Dan thinks about using that clip for a future episode of _Reasons Why Dan’s a Fail: Sexuality Edition._ “Ok, Faulty Gaydar, let’s wrap this up.”

Dan wonders if Phil will back off after learning that Dan is not-so-straight, but he’s wrong. Phil continues to be his effortlessly flirty, friendly self. Which makes Dan want to choke him, non-kink related, of course. He just wants to put an end to the sexual frustration.

 

***

 

On a Friday afternoon, not long after Dan has posted his tenth podcast and surpassed 100k followers which Phil commemorates with a store-bought cake with “100k reasons why Dan’s not a fail” artfully spelled out on it, Dan gets a call from his dad. Dan stares at the deceptively innocuous call screen that just says “Dad.” When his dad wants to talk to him, he does so through his mum or with a quick, no-frills, no-emojis, no-nonsense text. He can’t think of a time that he’s ever seen this particular call screen, not even when he broke the news to them that he was going to drop out of uni.

With shaking fingers, Dan swipes to answer the call and puts it up to his ear, heartbeat in his throat. “Hello? Dad?”

“Hi, Dan. How’re you?” He sounds casual. Too casual.

A sweat breaks out along Dan’s hairline and he collapses back on his sofa. He presses a hand to his forehead. He feels ridiculous, acting like he just been caught with a sack of hard drugs. He clears his throat. “I’m fine. Just—” Dan looks down at the coffee table where a new podcast script is glowing on his laptop screen. “—sprucing up my application. For, uh, another interview.” It’s not a _complete_ lie. Phil has sent him a job posting at his editing company and Dan is going to look into it tonight. It’s currently open on his laptop. Right between the “oddly satisfying compilation” and Twitter.

Dan’s dad hums. “Funny you mention the job hunt, Daniel.” Dan closes his eyes. His full name. Not a good sign. His dad calls him Dan when they talk music or current movies. “Daniel” is reserved for Serious Topics, like what Dan is going to do with the rest of his life. Daniel is for unsolicited life advice.

Nervously, Dan rubs his hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. His skin is _moist_. He could grow cultures on his skin, it’s so moist. “Yeah, Dad?”

“Your mother and I have decided that we… can’t fund your London living much longer. If, by the end of this month you don’t have a job, we ask that you come back home to figure out your next steps.” He rattles off the message like he’s been practicing it in front of a mirror. Or has it written down somewhere and is reading the declaration off to Dan. So King Howell decrees.

Dan blinks and takes a deep, steadying breath, shaking off his more ridiculous thoughts. The end of the month is only in a few weeks. If, in the course of _two months_ he hasn’t found a job, there’s little hope for it happening in _two weeks_. Despite trying to keep it calm, his breathing picks up. “Oh,” he grits, squeezing his thigh and his phone tightly. “That’s—”

“—Can you blame us, Daniel?” His father cuts in, his voice louder than before. “You had something going for you in uni and you just threw it out.” So that’s how this conversation is going to go, then. There’s no hope of having a regular adult discussion with his father at this rate.

“Dad.” Dan desperately tries to level with his father, but, in the back of his head he knows that it’s useless. Once his dad has worked himself up, there’s no hope in bringing him back down to reality until he’s gotten it off his chest.

“Living in London isn’t cheap, I don’t know if you know. Your mother and I have our own financial concerns.”

Dan blinks back the sudden pricking of hot tears, guilt descending on him like a bird of prey. It settles heavily on his shoulders and unfolds its mangled, familiar wings. He knows this hasn’t been the most thought-out plan, but his parents had ultimately agreed to it. How dare they suggest he doesn’t know the gravity of his situation? Or make him feel guilty for accepting their help? “You don’t have to treat me like a child, dad. I know this hasn’t been easy on you and mum. But you told me—”

“—yes, well. Now I’m telling you two more weeks. This… experiment has to have an end date. And now it does.” Dan’s father speaks with a finality that suggests the discussion is over, no questions. And a few seconds later, his dad is awkwardly saying his goodbyes and asking Dan to keep them in the loop. Then, Dan is met with the sound of silence in his ear.

Once his father is off the phone, tears begin to leak out of Dan’s eyes. He can’t help it. Getting “talked to” by his dad always takes him back to his childhood, when he felt like no one gave a shit and he just got on everyone’s nerves. Dan wipes the back of his hand angrily against his eyes. He hates that his father can do this to him with a few words.

Sitting on the couch, staring at a half-done script for a silly, pointless podcast, it doesn’t take long for Dan to begin to fall down a spiral of self-hatred.

His dad has a point. This is just one, big failed experiment. Dan is crazy for dropping out of uni and trying to make it in one of the most expensive cities in the UK. He has put more financial strain on his already financially-unstable family. And, to top it all off, he’s allowed himself to become distracted by a silly hobby and a guy who’s never going to be interested in a 22 year old fuck-up.

Dan closes out his podcast script and his other meaningless tabs, as well as facebook messenger, where he’s been entertaining Phil while he attends a work meeting. Dan’s been selfish. It’s time for him to get serious.

Hours later, Dan’s eyes are dry and when he blinks they sting painfully. He can’t tell if its because of the crying, or because he’s spent the entire time staring at a screen, filling out online applications and revising his old CV. Distantly, Dan is aware of his phone chiming every few minutes with a notification, but every time he goes to check it he beats himself up for being so distractible. He silences his phone.

For what feels like the tenth time, Dan types his birthdate into a blank box for a company called “INtechOP” for who-knows-what entry-level position that will no doubt suck his soul out through his eyes and leave him an empty shell of a man. His doorbell rings. With a glance at the clock on the corner of his laptop, Dan knows exactly who it is.

Dan considers pretending he isn’t home and just ignoring Phil. He knows it’s not going to work, though, because he’s always home at this time of day, because he’s a fuck-up with no life. It’s possible he could get away with pretending he’s sick, but it would have to be pretty damn convincing since Dan was just chatting with Phil without a care in the world a few hours ago.

Maybe, Dan will tell Phil the truth: that he’s got to be serious for once in his life and actually try to do something sensible.

Still not knowing exactly what he’s going to say to get Phil to go away, Dan pushes himself off the couch. He hasn’t changed out of his old, ratty pajamas, but can’t find it himself to care. He trudges toward the door and opens it an uninviting crack. Of course, Phil greets Dan with his usual, cheerful, “Hi, Dan!” and pushes his way through the door. Phil makes a beeline for Dan’s cupboard for Ribena, absently chattering about his day. Dan stares helplessly after his friend.

“...So this client is trying to tell _me_ the best way to frame his shots and, I’m willing to take constructive criticism, but…” Dan watches Phil pull two glasses out of the cupboard like he lives there and it kind of makes Dan’s heart hurt. How is he supposed to distance himself from Phil when he’s one of the reasons why it’s imperative he stays in London? “My boss sided with me, thankfully. Especially because now this _lemon_ is trying to say that we charged him too much because he did most of the work…” Phil pours Ribena in the two glasses, putting a little less concentrate in one. Dan realizes that Phil is making a glass for Dan just how he likes it. The action makes tears prick Dan’s eyes once again, even though he feels swollen and cried-out. “This is why I don’t usually work with individual clients because the customer isn’t always right; they’re usually a goddamn moron— Dan, are you crying?”

Phil stops short, dropping the bottle of Ribena to the table and rushing toward Dan. Once Phil has pointed it out, it’s like two tiny dams have opened up in Dan’s eyes and tears rush down his face. Phil crowds Dan to his chest. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

And that makes Dan feel worse, because it’s not like his nana has died, or something. He’s just being a dramatic, whiny little bitch who doesn’t like being scolded by his father. “Nothing’s happened.” Dan whispers pathetically, mouth moving against the wet patch forming on Phil’s blue plaid shirt.

“Dan,” Phil says evenly, sounding every bit like a comforting father. Full of logic and wisdom. “Something’s _obviously_ happened, or you wouldn’t be crying.”

Phil’s tone shifts something in Dan. Phil sounds exactly like his father. He knows best, while Dan is a snot-nosed little kid. Dan pushes himself away from Phil roughly. “Sometimes people just cry, Phil.” Dan replies hotly, wiping tears away from his cheeks.

Phil reaches for Dan again, “Of course sometimes we just cry. That’s good. That’s healthy.”

Dan dodges Phil’s hands who drops them immediately. “Right, healthy. Great. Thanks, Phil. You know,” Dan frowns, grinding his teeth together, “I’m so glad I have these _adults_ in my life to grace me with their _wisdom_.” Sarcasm drips off Dan’s tongue, tingeing his words. “I can’t tell you how helpful it is, since I’m just a big kid running around London with my fucking thumb up my ass.”

Phil blinks and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. If Dan wasn’t feeling so angry, he’d probably coo at the expression. “Dan, I’m so confused. Did I do something wrong?”

Dan growls in frustration. In the back of his mind, he knows that Phil has done nothing to deserve this and he’s being a dickhead. However, a blanket of red anger covers Dan’s more logical thoughts. “I just want you to leave.” Dan stalks toward the door and wrenches it open. “Please.”

Phil looks between Dan and the door several times, looking like he wants to stay and question Dan. He seems to think better of it, his face hardening. Dan has never seen Phil without the permanent joy etched on his face. He nods curtly at Dan, walks out the door, and closes it firmly behind him.

It doesn’t take long for Dan to feel like a totally unreasonable asshole, but the damage is already done.

 

***

 

Phil leaves Dan alone. Dan doesn’t write podcast scripts. He doesn’t bake. He tries to stay away from his video game collection. He definitely stays away from apartment 57.

Dan applies for jobs. Dan attends two interviews. He washes his button-down. He buys a new, unstained tie because his red one still has marshmallow on it.

He knows that he needs to apologize to Phil and explain himself, but the distance is also allowing him to be serious about his job search. And when he gets invited back for a second interview at INtechOP, not a moment too soon, he decides that the space between Phil and him is a good thing.

“Thanks for coming in again, David.” Mr. Acton smiles stiffly, a little bit like he has something shoved in his rectum or is holding in a bowel movement. Or both. This guy looks ancient. And he’s wearing a waistcoat with a pocket-watch chain tucked in, like it’s the Victorian era. Dan wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Acton actually once lived in the Victorian era.

Dan extends his hand, which Mr. Acton takes in his own dry, wrinkly hand. “It’s Daniel, actually. Thank you for inviting me back for a second interview.” Dan offers what he hopes is a polite smile, but he hasn’t smiled in so long that it feels like weightlifting. The corners of his mouth drop quickly.

“Daniel. I’ll remember that. This is going to be quicker than your last interview; we just have a few further questions that will help us choose between you and another candidate.” Mr. Acton licks his old, crusty lips. Dan nods, and Mr. Acton begins the questioning.

In school, before he was convinced that it was uncool and there was no future for him in it, Dan participated in theater. He felt like he was pretty good at it, too, and he enjoyed it. He loved being handed a script and disappearing into a character who wasn’t himself.

Dan has discovered that’s what he needs to do at interviews. He puts on a facade of someone who has more experience, who is more confident in himself, who has social skills and passion. It’s almost like an out-of-body experience when he does this. He watches another Daniel Howell answer questions for Mr. Acton. He watches another Daniel Howell share a joke about _The Great British Bake Off_ and fake laugh with the old guy that will soon command his every move nine hours a day. This other Daniel is professional, collected, and has remembered to silence his cell phone.

“Well, Darren. Thanks so much. You are a very promising candidate and we will be informing you whether or not you got the position at the end of this day.” Mr. Acton smiles another stiff smile. He offers another dry, wrinkly handshake to Dan, and Dan doesn’t bother correcting the man.

Dan leaves the building, boards the tube, steps in gum, returns home, and watches a Doctor Who re-run. He doesn’t bother to take off his button-up and tie.

He’ll get the job. He’ll stay in London. Maybe he’ll end up apologising to Phil and explaining the whole situation. Maybe he won’t, so he can fully focus on his new adult career. Everything will be fine.

Dan is mid-nap on the couch, the sound of daleks trying to exterminate all humans blaring on the TV, when his phone scares him awake. At first, Dan ignores it, thinking that it’s his parents checking in on him yet again. Then, Dan remembers that he’s supposed to be hearing about his job. Hastily, he answers the call, hoping his voice doesn’t sound too scratchy from sleep.

“Hi, is this Donny How?” The woman on the other end of the phone is speaking slowly, like she’s translating hieroglyphics and Dan wants to bet she’s reading a scrawled out message from Mr. Acton.

Dan pauses, wondering if he should correct her. He decides against it. “Uh, yeah. Yes, this is him.”

“Hi, Donny. This is Janice from INtechOP. I’m just calling to thank you for applying to our company,” Dan opens his mouth, preparing to accept the position as quickly as possible, “And to inform you that we’ve hired another candidate.” Dan snaps his mouth shut. There’s silence over the phone line while his heart drops into his stomach. He shakily thanks Janice for her time and hangs up the phone.

Unseeing, he stares at his home screen. He really put his all into those interviews. He read and re-read every application question submission. He re-formatted his CV and perfected every detail. He laughed at every lame joke out of Mr. Acton’s mouth and returned the man’s questions with thoughtful answers. Even fake Dan couldn’t get a job.

Dan swallows around the dry lump in his throat. Dan turns off his TV and gets up off the sofa. Without really knowing what he’s doing, Dan leaves his flat and finds himself in front of Phil’s door, ringing the doorbell twice in succession.

Before Dan has time to even gather his thoughts, Phil answers the door with a hard expression on his face. “Hi, Dan.” Phil nods once, stiffly. He’s in black jeans and a nerdy Donkey Kong t-shirt. He looks tired, with purpling bags under his eyes, like he hasn’t slept well. Dan wants to immediately gather Phil in a hug and ask for forgiveness.

He does neither of these things. “May I come in?” Dan asks in a small, robotic voice. He feels naked, and realizes it’s because he doesn’t have a baked good to offer Phil. He always brings Phil a baked good when he visits. Phil doesn’t look like he wants to let Dan in, but he opens the door wider and gestures to the inside of his flat anyway. Dan comes in and stands in the middle of the entryway.

“Soo…” Phil says, closing the door behind him with his back.

Dan turns around. “I didn’t get the job.”

Phil’s face softens, just a little. “What job?”

“Any of them,” he whispers. “I didn’t get any of the jobs and my parents are making me move back in a week.”

All hardness on Phil’s face is replaced with sympathy and Dan knows in that moment that he doesn’t deserve Phil. “Oh, Dan…. I’m so sorry.”

“No, _I’m_ sorry.” Dan hangs his head, “I was a massive dick to you. I took it all out on you. You’ve been nothing but a good friend, but I got frustrated because you have it all together and I’m just… a stupid kid. Why would you want anything to do with a stupid kid?”

Phil haltingly extends a hand and places it on his shoulder, almost as if he’s afraid his touch isn’t welcome. “You’re not a stupid kid.” Dan looks away from Phil’s imploring eyes, feeling exposed. He grunts noncommittally. Dan disagrees, but knows he won’t be able to convince Phil how irresponsible he’s been, chasing a pipe dream across London. Putting strain on his parents. Coming away with nothing to show for it.

After a long moment of silence that Dan doesn’t know how to fill, Phil says, “So you leave in a week.” It isn’t a question. Dan nods anyway, feeling like a hot, steaming pile of garbage. He’s come to love his little flat, next to Phil. He’s come to love London and the podcast that they make together. He’s come to love Phil, whether as a friend or something more. His silly crush doesn’t really matter anymore; it’s not like Dan will ever try anything with a week left in his apartment. “What about the podcast?” Phil asks gently, but Dan only shrugs.

“I’m sorry, Dan.” Silence permeates Phil’s flat.

Phil rubs his hand across Dan’s shoulder and down his back, soothingly. He melts into the touch. Phil whispers, “So you’re leaving me soon,” and, before Dan can respond, he pulls Dan toward his chest in a hug. He squeezes tight and Dan sinks into his warmth, letting strong arms circle Dan’s body and comfort him. Phil is a little bit taller than Dan, so his head fits comfortably on Phil’s broad shoulder. When tears threaten to well out of Dan’s eyes, he presses his face to Phil’s neck to will them away. If Dan was feeling better, he’d probably be popping a boner at how close he is to Phil and the heady smell of him right up against his nose. But he feels comforted and protected, rather than aroused.

All too soon, Phil gives Dan one last squeeze and pulls Dan away from him. Dan tries to step back, but Phil keeps his arms steadily around Dan’s middle. Dan blinks up at Phil, confused. Their chests are pressed together and Dan fears that feeling of being comforted by his best friend is quickly going to be replaced with arousal. Dan’s gotta evacuate while he’s still soft.

Phil’s head inches toward Dan’s. His head spins. “You’re leaving me soon,” Phil repeats. This time, the sentence feels packed with meaning. They’re so close that their breaths mingle between their faces. Dan widens his eyes at Phil and his knees turn to jelly. Is this happening? Is the orchestra swelling around them just in Dan’s head?

“Have I read things wrong or can I kiss you?” Phil whispers, and Dan’s mouth drops open in shock.

“K-kiss me?” Dan squeaks out. He must be dreaming, but he can’t tell if the job rejection makes it a nightmare or Phil propositioning him makes it the best damn dream he’s ever had.

Phil nods, his eyes half-lidded and his sweet breath surrounding Dan in an intoxicating haze. Dan’s tongue finally loosens, “Oh _fuck yeah_ ,” he croaks. Phil surges forward.

Both of them feeling a sense of urgency, they mostly skip the “sweet” and “chaste” part that kissing usually starts with. But Dan can’t help it; after feeling the warm, fleeting press of Phil’s plush lips against his own, Dan immediately wants more. He parts his mouth to invite Phil in and practically collapses when he feel the soft pressure of Phil’s tongue against his. Dan fists his hands around the cotton that stretches across Phil’s back and holds back a groan. At first, Phil’s tongue drags and pushes and explores slowly; and then Dan kinda ruins that when returns Phil’s careful attention with a bite to Phil’s lip when they part for breath.

Dan actually watches Phil’s pupils dilate, black swallowing blue until there’s only a thin rim left of the familiar color. “God, you’re so fucking hot.” Dan supplies, planting firm kisses against Phil’s slightly swollen lips. Dan slides his hands to Phil’s chest and pushes him against the door so he can crowd up against him.

Phil groans, “ _I’m_ hot?” He says between rough kisses, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you first moved in.” Phil brackets Dan’s jaw in his hands and filthily sucks on Dan’s tongue and bites.

Between them, Dan pets Phil’s chest, loving the feel of his broad warmth under Dan’s hand. The flat is filled with the sounds of their wet kisses. “Well, fuck me, Lester. Couldn’t you have acted a little sooner?”

Phil growls and drops his head back onto the door, chest heaving. He steadies his hands against the wall. “Are you kidding me? All I’ve been doing is flirting with you. I thought you were _straight_ , you’re so oblivious. Then I thought you just didn’t like me that way.” They stare at each other, cheeks flushed. “I got PJ to _tell you_ I liked you. He said he got nothing out of you!”

Dan smooths his hands across Phil’s chest, brushing a hard nipple. It makes Phil shiver and Dan files the information away in his newly forming “sex with Phil file.” Dan thinks back to the abundance of Phil’s little flirty comments, lingering touches, and innuendos, and the conversation he had with PJ. ‘He likes you,’ PJ had said, clear as day. Dan bites his lip, “I thought you acted that way with all your friends,” Dan supplies weakly with a small shrug.

“God, no, Dan.” Phil rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “No, because I don’t want to fuck my friends.” Phil winds Dan’s blue interview tie around his hand and pulls so their lips meet once again. For the first time in his life, Dan is happy he’s wearing the bloody thing. Dan’s cock hardens in his slightly too-tight trousers. Phil’s hand slips around to cup the back of Dan’s head.

Dan one ups Phil by grinding his hips forward. “Shit,” Dan breathes into Phil’s mouth. Dan can feel the hardness of Phil’s bulge next to his own. Dan feels like he’s going to pass out. Is it elation? Is it because he’s actually hallucinating this whole thing after a sadness-induced drug binge? Is it because all the blood in his head has suddenly rushed to his dick? Dan ducks his head into Phil’s neck and breathes. Phil smells woody and sweaty and Dan kind of wants to lick the skin, so he does. Phil wraps his arms around Dan’s back like he did platonically a few minutes ago. Dan is struck by the realization that everything can change in the course of a few minutes.

Phil starts, “Do you—” Dan nips the thin, pale skin between the juncture of neck and shoulder, making Phil interrupt himself with a grunt. “—shit, that feels good.” Dan increases the pressure of his teeth and sucks the skin between his them into his mouth. Unconsciously, Phil’s hips move with tiny, frantic thrusts against Dan’s and Dan slides his hand down between them to rub against Phil’s cock under the stretch of his black jeans. Phil threads his fingers through Dan’s hair and holds Dan to his neck with a whispered ‘fuck.’

When Dan pulls away, there’s a sizeable, red bruise forming on Phil’s skin. Speckled and bordered by two bite marks, it looks lovely on the pale canvas underneath it. “What were you gonna ask me?” Dan asks innocently, still massaging his hand up and down the length of Phil’s dick. It feels long and thick, and Dan is more than excited to see it. Get it in his mouth. Ride it, if he plays the cards right.

Phil catches Dan’s wrist in his hand, halting the friction against his dick. “I was doing to ask if you wanted to take this to the bedroom? Not that I mind making out against the wall,” Phil punctuates his sentence with a slow grind forward against Dan. “But nothing beats being horizontal.” Dan can’t help but agree; he wants to get all of Phil’s clothes off.

Phil pushes Dan away from him and, with a firm hold still on Dan’s wrist that’s making Dan sweat, wastes no time in getting the two of them into Phil’s bedroom. With the flat of his palm against Dan’s chest, Phil pushes Dan to the bed. “Fuck, I like you manhandling me.” Dan says, smoldering at Phil. He nods, “Take your shirt off.”

Phil is quick, pulling the cotton shirt off over his head and revealing a lean torso that Dan immediately wants to run his palms over. There’s a smattering of light brown hair across Phil’s chest that reminds Dan that he’s about to have sex with his _older_ neighbor. His cock twitches.

Dan reaches to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt, only to get his hands bat away by Phil who settles in between Dan’s outstretched legs and reaches for the garments himself. Dan leans on his elbows to watch Phil work through his buttons with deft fingers. Phil’s cool hands smooth over Dan’s warm body, thumbing over Dan’s nipples and making him flinch with pleasure. Slowly, Phil reaches up and loosens Dan’s tie with a back-and-forth swing of his hand, diving forward to kiss Dan again.

Dan can feel Phil pressing him back against the bed. Dan interrupts the movement and says, “Wait, I get the tie is fun and all, but let me take off my clothes all the way.” Phil snorts and Dan shrugs out of his shirt and tie, pushing them blindly off the bed while Phil takes no time in shoving Dan back again once he’s topless.

The feeling of their two chests pressing against each other is pretty great. It wakes up every nerve in Dan’s body and makes his torso erupt in goosebumps.

“I can’t believe we could have been doing this the whole time,” Phil breathes between kisses, shoving his knee in between Dan’s thighs and pressing lightly. Dan groans and pushes up to meet the hard pressure. The twinge of pain he feels against the zipper of his pants only enhances the pleasure he feels.

“Yeah,” Dan pants, “We’re _idiots_. And now we don’t have much time to make up for it.” Dan tries not to think about how the hell he’s supposed to move back home with his parents when he’s gotten the chance to know Phil like this. If he thought the sexual tension was bad before... To distract himself, he reaches around to clutch Phil’s bum through denim, wishing there was nothing between them. So, instead he shoves his hands down the back of Phil’s trousers to get at warm skin and he massages into the muscle. It’s a wonderful bum; very soft and pliant under Dan’s fingers. Phil seems to really enjoy the ass massage; he drops his head into Dan’s neck and groans. Dan orders, “Bite my neck. Fuck, Phil, you have an amazing ass.”

“All the better to fuck?” Phil suggests, biting down on the column of neck directly below Dan’s pulsepoint.

Dan whines and thrusts his hips up. “Is that a red riding hood joke?” Phil mumbles a ‘shut up’ against Dan’s skin and sucks, and really all is forgiven. Dan has a really sensitive neck. Shivers wrack his body while Phil deposits light bruise after bruise on his pale skin and they rut together like teenagers.

“Ok, trousers are coming off.” Phil says suddenly, unlatching himself from Dan’s neck. With frantic fingers, he unbuttons his jeans and shove them down his thighs. Dan stares at the front of Phil’s black Calvin Kleins where an impressive bulge is stretching the material. Phil awkwardly reaches behind him to take his trousers off the rest of the way, clumsily pitching to the side until Dan steadies him with a hand to his shoulder.

“So, you’re hung.” Dan deadpans, mouth practically watering as he reaches out and massages the bulge. It’s so warm and hard under the thin material of Phil’s briefs.

Phil bites his lip, “I’m… a little larger than average.” Dan lifts an eyebrow and squeezes Phil’s cock firmly. Phil groans, “Shut up. God, that feels good.”

“Can I suck it?” Dan wiggles a finger into the hole in Phil’s briefs, tracing his fingertip against Phil’s velvety, moist tip. “Please?” Dan’s cock throbs at the thought. Hell, he’s been waiting to get this particular dick in his mouth for months.

“God. Yeah, of course. Take your trousers off first?” Phil doesn’t wait for Dan to do it himself. He reaches down, pops the button and drags the waistband down Dan’s hips and thighs. Dan does the universally-attractive butt wiggle/ hip-thrust combo to aide Phil in pulling off his trousers the rest of the way. Thankfully, Dan isn’t wearing his signature-tight skinny jeans or this process would be a lot more complicated.

Phil lowers his body back on Dan and, before Dan can complain that this isn’t conducive to dick-sucking, he’s hissing at the pressure of their two, barely-covered dicks pushing against each other. Dan replaces his hands on Phil’s bum and kneads, pulling Phil’s hips forward to thrust into Dan. Then Phil reaches to shimmy Dan’s pants out of the way, his cock springing up between them, the little pink tip releasing a bead of precome. Phil does the same with his own pants and Dan is gifted with the sight of his thick, uncut dick straining over Dan’s. “Oh man. That’s a specimen,” Dan says appreciatively, letting one of his hands travel from ass to around their two cocks. They watch the sight with their foreheads pressed together.

“Don’t call it a—” Phil moans as Dan slowly pulls his hand from the base of their cocks to the tip, “—A specimen. Weirdo.”

Dan would pull Phil in for a kiss, but he’d rather watch their two dicks pressed together and his hand moving slickly over them. He cups his hand around their tips to gather precome to lubricate the stripping motion. Phil’s bedroom is filled with the wet sound of skin against skin.

“Ok, ok. I still want to suck your dick.” Already regretting it, Dan lets go of their cocks. “Want you to lay on your back.” Phil nods and they switch places, ridding themselves of pants and socks. Dan kneels between Phil’s knees and stares for a moment. Phil watches Dan watching him.

Dan wants to take a picture of Phil’s dick straining toward his navel, flushed skin standing out against pale. He wants to capture the heat in Phil’s eyes and the stubble on his jaw and the wrinkles that decorate the skin around his eyes and forehead. Dan rolls Phil’s balls in his hand and Phil flinches inward, letting out a low sound. “That’s good,” Phil manages. His hands are fisted in the dark blue duvet under him. Still with a hand on Phil’s balls, Dan ducks forward and suckles the tip of Phil’s dick into his mouth, with another hand on the base. The salty, bitter taste of precome explodes on Dan’s tastebuds.

Dan runs his tongue around the solid head of Phil’s cock, slipping it underneath silky foreskin. Phil nudges his hips up in a silent plea for Dan to go deeper and he obliges, mouth slipping down the shaft in a tight ring. Using the responsive sounds that Phil makes as his guide, Dan sucks Phil’s dick with every he’s got. He varies the pressure, sucking, bobbing, and licking the hard, heavy flesh. Dan gets as close as he can to the wiry hair at the base of Phil’s cock, using his hand on the parts his mouth can’t reach.

Phil’s hands don’t stay fisted in the sheets. One comes and cups the back of Dan’s head, and when Dan prompts him, pulls the short strands of hair at the nape of his neck. This only makes go Dan go faster, deeper. Dan’s own neglected dick bobs right over the bed, achingly close to having a little bit of friction, but never quite making the necessary contact. It’s frustrating in Dan’s favorite kind of way.

Dan is lapping at Phil’s frenulum with broad, smooth strokes and jerking the shaft off with his hand when Phil pulls Dan’s hair. Phil heaves, “Stop, stop, I’m going to come.” Reluctantly, Dan pulls off with an over-exaggerated pop.

Spit covers Dan’s chin and hand and he lethargically rubs them off against Phil’s thigh while Phil recovers. “Hmm, yeah, I don’t want you to come because I want you to fuck me and you’re a bit too old to be able to go for round two very quickly after.”

Phil runs a hand through his sweaty quiff. Half-lidded and smiling he says, “Fuck you.”

Still propped on Phil’s thigh, Dan smiles back. “That’s the idea.”

“So you want me to top?” Phil asks unnecessarily.

Dan shoves himself up off Phil’s thigh and walks on his knees toward Phil. “Phil. Philip.” Dan begins, swinging a knee at a time over Phil’s hips. “Today, I got rejected by yet another dumbass company that could hire _monkeys_ to do their work for them. I’ve applied to… so fucking many of these dumbass places and they’ve all rejected me.” Dan lifts himself up and lowers himself down so his ass is pressing against Phil’s dick. He watches Phil squeeze his eyes shut, the wrinkles around his eyes becoming more pronounced. “The only slightly successful thing I’ve got going for me is a podcast where I talk about reasons why I’m a failure. I leave London in a week to go crawling back to my parents with my tail between my legs.” Dan rocks back and forth gently. “I just want to get fucking rawed right now, if you don’t mind.”

Phil bites his lip and nods. “Ok, that, uh, makes sense.” Phil places his hands on Dan’s hips, thumbs rubbing into the skin over Dan’s hip bones. There’s something about that little touch that feels more intimate than having Phil’s damn dick down his throat. Despite Dan’s slightly joking tone, Phil replies more softly, “I’m sorry, Dan. Lemme take care of you?”

Dan swallows, sudden emotion making his throat catch. Being taken care of sounds… really fucking nice. “Please,” Dan whispers back.

“Can you reach my bedside drawer?” Phil questions, rubbing a palm over Dan’s lower stomach, catching Dan’s largely untouched dick and making it twitch. Phil guides Dan to his lube and package of condoms. “Ok, now come here,” Phil says and spreads his arms out to accept Dan in a hug. He kisses Dan slowly, and Dan wonders when exactly this went from hot and frenzied to sweet and even emotional. Phil pets his hands over Dan’s shoulder blades and Dan finds himself hunching into the warm safety of Phil’s body.

At some point, Phil flips them so that Dan is pinned under his body and it’s honestly even better. Dan can’t help but feel like the world can’t touch him when he’s under Phil. Even though it’s like a kid thinking that a blanket is going to protect them from the monster, Dan allows himself the naive thought. He’s going to let himself be taken care of.

Phil doesn’t tease Dan. He strokes Dan’s cock gently, slicking the way with lube. He twists his hand on every upstroke, sending a consistent jolt through Dan. They kiss distractedly, until Phil inches his hand to Dan’s bum and kneads and Dan has to breathe. Dan hums and groans through all the sensations, urging Phil on with murmured words of encouragement and praise.

Phil circles a dry finger around Dan’s hole, massaging the intimate flesh. Dan’s breath catches in his throat because this is kinda his favorite part and its been so long since he’s had anyone to do it for him. Phil removes his finger to slick it with lube and Dan whines at the loss.

“I knew you’d be whiny,” Phil says with a smirk. “The bossy, sarcastic ones are always whiny.”

“And I knew you’d be a prick. Prick on the streets, prick in the ohhh—” Dan’s quip is cut off by Phil sheathing a little more than the tip of his finger into Dan’s hole.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist. Everything ok, down there?” Phil trails hand, sticky with drying lube, up Dan’s lower stomach. It should feel gross, but it really doesn’t.

Dan nods, “We’re good. I quite enjoy being fingered.”

Phil slides his finger up more, twisting it around to stretch him more. “God, don’t sound so posh about having a finger up your arse.” Dan has to laugh at that one, before he asks Phil for his whole finger and to ‘move, damn it.’ Phil obeys, pumping his pointer in and out of Dan’s hole, until the muscles around the digit feel more relaxed.

Phil adds a second and that’s when things get interesting. The pressure of fingers inside is unrivaled by any other feeling… well except maybe an actual dick. It’s overwhelming, but perfect. Winds him up, but unravels him. Dan lazily strokes his own dick while he watches Phil’s wrist move. When there’s room to do it properly, Phil’s fingers crook up and he aims his thrusts toward Dan’s navel, no doubt searching for Dan’s prostate. He finds it and Dan jumps at the electric sensation that slices through his body, both numbing and stimulating at the same time. “Ohh, fuck, right there.” Dan says, arching his back.

Phil does well to massage the right spot with his fingers, murmuring, “There you go, Dan. I’ll take care of you. Shh, relax.” He’s relentless with his fingers. When he’s got three inside Dan and Dan is emitting a constant string of swears, the digits finally still. “You’re so pretty with my fingers in you,” Phil says, coming down to suck Dan’s bottom lip into his mouth.

“Fucking hell,” Dan says, grinding down to try to resume the wonderful onslaught of friction. Instead, Phil pulls out his fingers. Dan protests with a loud whine.

“Do you want my dick or not?” Phil rolls his eyes and rips open a condom. Dan makes grabby hands for the rubber and Phil obliges. Dan pinches the top and rolls latex over Phil’s cock, rubbing his hand up and down for good measure. Phil adds a drizzle of lube and lets Dan slick the shaft. “So, you still good? Need a different position?” Phil checks before lining the head of his cock against Dan’s loosened entrance.

Dan shakes his head, “M’good. Feels nice. Proceed.” He wiggles down, trying to catch the head with his rim. Phil braces his hand against the mattress next to Dan’s head and guides the first few centimeters of his dick into Dan. And it’s… really good. It forces Dan open more than three fingers had, but Dan has always enjoyed the stretch as long as it’s done right. Phil’s going slow, which makes the burn both manageable and tortuous. Dan runs his fingers over his own cockhead and nudges his nose into Phil’s neck. He mouths along the sweaty skin he finds there and feels Phil’s bottom out, his balls pressed against his bum. “You feel so good,” Dan groans.

“You’re tight,” Phil grits out, dropping his head onto Dan’s shoulder. They stay curled into each other for several long moments, Dan petting and lightly scratching his fingernails over Phil’s back and flanks, drawing out tiny little shivers from Phil. “Can I move?” Phil all but begs, voice muffled against Dan’s skin.

“Please,” Dan responds, helping the process by drawing back into the mattress and thrusting his hips forward to fuck himself gently on Phil’s dick. The slide makes Dan’s head spin and his cock feel even fuller, if that is possible. Phil nudges his head next to Dan’s and noses into Dan’s temple, bracing himself on his elbows. Dan circles his arms around Phil’s neck and uses his braced feet against the mattress to grind up, while Phil grinds down. Dan moans, “Oh, god, Phil. You feel—”

“So good,” Phil finishes for him. Slowly but surely, Phil lengthens his thrusts, so Dan can feel every thick inch of him sliding up inside Dan. Phil kisses Dan’s cheek which, again, feels more intimate than their current activity, which is really saying something. The gesture makes Dan’s throat feel rough with emotion and he’s reminded how temporary this relationship probably is.

Phil distracts him against the intrusive thoughts, however. The blunt tip of Phil’s dick nudges Dan’s prostate and Dan can’t hold back the appreciative groan he lets out, “Oh, fuck, right there.” Phil does his best to grind into the gland, succeeding enough of the time that Dan’s hips jerk erratically and his cock leaks against Phil’s abdomen. “Go, f-faster,” Dan manages, wrapping his legs around Phil’s hips. Phil’s pace has been slow, deep.

“Not gonna last if I go faster,” Phil grunts, rolling his hips and burying himself into Dan to the hilt.

Dan lets out a low sound pushes back. “Don’t care. Just, fuck me.”

Phil growls and takes his cock out of Dan’s ass. Dan makes a small noise of indignation but Phil just ignores him and pushes himself off Dan so Phil’s upright with his knees against the bed. Dan lets his hands and legs fall away from Phil. He misses their close proximity, but Phil doesn’t waste time pushing Dan’s legs up so his hole opens obscenely between them. He guides his dick into Dan’s entrance. Then, with barely a pause, he slides back out. He grips Dan’s hips, squeezing the flesh there with white-knuckled fingers and sets a bruising pace.

It’s exactly what Dan wants. What Dan needs right now. He lets out a pleasured shout and scrabbles his hands against Phil’s thighs. He can’t do anything except let his head fall back on the bed and allow his body to be used. Phil looks gorgeous above him, sweat glistening against his chest and eyebrows furrowed. His jet black hair is flopping over on his forehead and, despite being fucked within an inch of his life, Dan’s fingers itch to smooth the hair away from Phil’s eyes.

Phil’s hips snap, his dick disappearing into Dan’s body. Pressure builds inside Dan and he knows it’s not going to be long until he comes. Like he can read his mind, Phil is grunting, “I’m gonna come, Dan. Can’t hold on much longer.”

“Then don’t hold on, duh.” Dan smiles. He knows he must look ridiculous, still trying to sound cheeky when his hair is plastered to his face in damp curls and his face twists in pleasure.

“Oh, thanks for your permission,” Phil snarks back at him with a breathless voice. He grips Dan’s hips even tighter and Dan hopes that finger-shaped bruises form to remind him of this moment.

Without warning, the pressure in Dan’s ass is suddenly gone and, before Dan can even voice his confusion, Phil is manhandling Dan again and flipping him on his stomach. Phil hitches his arm around Dan’s middle and lifts so Dan’s on his hands and knees. Phil plunges his cock back into Dan’s ass and Dan’ responds with a shout. Phil reaches his hand around Dan’s cock and strips it with such speed that Dan’s muscles are seizing and he is coming before he knows it. Dan watches in awe as thin strands of white spill out his tip and onto the duvet. Phil pumps his length, forcing every last bit of wetness out of the slit and spreading it around the over-sensitive head.

“Had to take care of you first,” Phil grits out, still moving his hips. They stutter. “I’m coming, Dan. Fuck.” Phil works himself through his orgasm and Dan can feel his dick throbbing inside him. Phil thrusts in one more time, spending himself inside. He presses his forehead to Dan’s sweaty back.

They breathe. Dan shivers from aftershocks, especially because Phil’s hand is still wrapped around Dan’s dick. Dan feels Phil grab the base of his dick to hold the rubber on and pulls out of Dan’s body. Dan is empty, but can still feel the dull phantom throb of Phil’s cock in his ass. He rolls out from under Phil and away from the wet spot on the bed. He collapses onto his back and stares at Phil.

Phil is tying off the condom and chucking it in the bin next to his bed. He walks back to Dan on his knees and slides next to Dan’s side, fitting one arm under Dan’s neck and another over his chest. “Stop being so pretty, Howell,” Phil whispers, mouthing soft kisses against Dan’s cheek. Dan closes his eyes and nuzzles into the touch.

“Thanks for that. I needed it.” Dan says. He grips Phil’s forearm. “I wish it happened sooner.”

Phil noses Dan’s hair, humming. “I don’t. I’m glad we were friends first.”

“I just…” Dan chokes on his words. “I’m leaving, Phil. Things are just getting good and I have to leave.”

“Hey, hey. Shh. It’s ok,” Phil runs his thumb along Dan’s collarbone soothingly. Goosebumps break out across Dan’s skin. They lay together for a long time. They share chaste kisses and Phil traces the goosebumps across Dan’s skin. They tangle their legs together and doze lightly.

Dan’s stomach grumbles, interrupting their cuddle. Phil giggles. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” Dan mumbles.

“Pizza?” Phil extracts himself from Dan and searches for his pants. He pulls his phone out of the pocket with a triumphant noise.

Despite Dan’s somber thoughts, he smiles. “I’m always a slut for pizza.”

 

***

 

Dan has a hard time sleeping that night, even though he’s next to Phil and feels sated in more ways than one. Dan can’t help wracking his brain, trying to come up with a way that he can convince his parents to give him a little more time. He’ll work several jobs; it doesn’t matter if they’re at the local coffee shop or Tesco’s. He’ll tell them he has a boyfriend, so he can’t really move an hour away. He’ll beg and plead. He’ll ask them to take him out of their will. He’ll set up a GoFundMe.

Dan knows, however, that once his parents decide on something, it’s impossible to get them to change their minds. They’ll insist he can have a long distance relationship. They’ll balk at the idea of him taking on a minimum wage position, because London is for getting a career.

Dan groans quietly, causing Phil to stir in his sleep. Instead of waking up, however, Phil just pulls Dan to his chest. A bittersweet smile spreads across Dan’s lips. He lets the action soothe him into a restless sleep.

 

***

 

Phil wakes up the next day to an empty bed. For a second, he feels nervous that Dan is running away from him again. And the last week without Dan, thinking he was mad at Phil for some unknown reason, had been torture. He was slow at work, tossed and turned at night, and bugged every one of his friends for advice. Phil rubs the sleep out of his eyes and feels for his glasses on his nightstand. He slips them on and pushes himself out of bed.

If Dan runs again, Phil will just chase after him.

Phil slips on a simple black t-shirt and swipes on deodorant. It’s pretty much useless; he smells like a walking sex pit and only a shower will take care of that. If Dan’s around, maybe Phil can convince him to have a shower with Phil.

Once Phil pushes open his door, it’s clear that Dan has not run away. The smell of pancakes waft up into Phil’s nose. The cinnamon-y smell makes his mouth water. Phil smiles contentedly, the worry draining out of his shoulders.

Phil makes his way to the kitchen where Dan is standing, flipping pancakes in a pair of Phil’s pants and his Donkey Kong t-shirt from the day before. Seeing Dan in his clothes, the material hanging off Dan’s thin, young frame, does something to Phil’s insides. They flip flop pleasantly. Phil creeps up behind Dan and encircles his arms around Dan’s waist. Dan doesn’t even react with surprise, like Phil hoped.

“You know,” Phil rumbles, scratching his stubble along the soft planes of Dan’s neck and shoulder that peeks under the too-large shirt. He admires little bruises peppered along Dan’s smooth skin. “You don’t have to bake to get me to bang you.” Phil spins Dan around, crowding into Dan’s space and pressing his morning wood against Dan’s bare thigh. Dan has a brilliant smile on his face that Phil immediately wants to kiss.

“These aren’t bang-me pancakes, Phil, these are celebration pancakes.” Dan replies, stealing Phil’s thunder and pressing a series of sloppy kisses on Phil’s mouth, chin, cheeks, nose.

Phil tries to chase Dan’s lips, but ends up just giggling and letting Dan have his way. “Oh yeah? What are we celebrating?” Phil nudges his nose into Dan’s and presses a steadier peck to Dan’s chapped lips. Phil’s going to buy that boy some chapstick.

Dan grins, “I got an out-of-the-blue call from our media overlords at BBC1.”

Phil cocks his head, “What? Why?”

“I called them at the number they gave me... Someone in the studio heard my podcast and wants to give me a segment on BBC1 Radio. Weekly.”

Phil’s jaw drops. He stares at Dan’s glowing brown eyes. And then he dives forward and picks Dan up in a spine-cracking hug, “You’re fucking kidding me!” He swings Dan around.

Dan laughs gleefully, “I’m not!”

“You can stay with me?” Phil clarifies, lowering Dan down.

“I can stay with you.” Dan confirms, pulling Phil in for a hug.

They stand in the kitchen like that, thanking their lucky stars. Although their time together in no longer limited, they touch each other like it’s their last day on earth.

“Hey, Dan? One more thing?” Phil whispers into Dan’s hair, nuzzling into the soft curls that are forming.

Dan hums, “What?” his hands drifting down toward Phil’s ass.

“Your celebration pancakes are burning.”

Phil’s ass is quickly forgotten. “Shit!” Dan exclaims, trying to pry pancake off the skillet, “Shit!”

Phil laughs. 29 years old, and he has a whole new beginning to look forward to.  


**Author's Note:**

> Reblog on [tumblr!](https://phantasizeit.tumblr.com/post/172894093627/sweet-tooth)


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